Naivety In Black: Dog Teeth
by CurbItKirby
Summary: Following the events of Sentimental Reasons, Deucalion is forced to take responsibilities for his actions and deal with the repercussions. Deucalion/OFC. Rated M for violence/gore, sexuality and frank discussions of self-harm and abuse.
1. Chapter 1

Deucalion slowly pulled his teeth from his lover's hip. He had done all he could and the only thing left to do was wait. Wait to see if it would take, if the strength he forced into her blood would keep her alive. Wait to see if he had given her enough of himself. Eyes locked on the bite, he grabbed her by the waist as she tried to crawl away from him.

Isla whimpered below him and shoved at his shoulders. Searing heat blossomed over her hip bone and radiated down her leg, but she could take it. She had been in pain most of her life, but the betrayal was new to her. It was a fresh kind of hurt that she was unprepared for as she stared up at the man she had shared her bed with, shared her life with for the past eight weeks. Her hands trembled and her heart pounded in her chest, unsteady and loud in the man's ears.

Swallowing, Isla squirmed beneath him. "Get off me!"

The Alpha ignored her and pulled her back between his legs. Prodding the bite, he growled low in his throat. It wasn't healing. With all the strength he had given her, it should have been healing. With a hint of desperation, Deucalion leaned forward, ready to bite her a second time.

"Stop!" Her hands caught him by the hair and Isla yanked him away with all her might.

His gaze snapped to hers. The young woman went still, shocked and frightened by his red eyes and fanged teeth. Panting, Deucalion watched the bruises on her face heal with a smile. The redness along her chin and jaw disappeared in a mere blink. The dark blue under the gash lightened and faded into her natural pale skin tone. Relief made his shoulders sink, but he didn't tear his eyes from the cut that ran the length of her cheek. It closed seamlessly. The Alpha chuckled with pride as he thumbed her hip. The bite healed under his harsh touch. His plan had worked and she would live.

To Isla, he looked completely crazed. Grinning with delight with her blood still staining his teeth, hunched over her like a wild animal. His lover flinched as he slowly eased his weight off her. The Alpha towered over her, peering down at her in a way she couldn't comprehend. As he reached for her with a clawed hand, Isla flinched. "Don't! Don't touch me!"

Any relief the man felt disappeared at the fear in her voice. Heart sick, he reached for her again only for Isla to shuffle back. She barely got a few feet from him before she stilled. Anxious, Deucalion hovered over her and waited for it to happen. It only took a moment. He winced sympathetically as Isla's entire body convulsed.

The redhead retched, spewing black goo across the cheap linoleum tiles. Before she could suck in another breath, it happened again and again. One of her long legs kicked up to her chest from the force of it. Her buxom frame jerking violently and her fingernails dug into the floor, clawing at it in a desperate attempt to gain some stability. Dazed, Isla laid there a moment, the black liquid slowly slipping from her lips as she sputtered.

With a sigh, Deucalion slid his hands under her. Before Isla could comprehend what was happening, Deucalion had begun to guide her to the bathroom. The young woman shoved his hands away and stumbled toward the toilet. Shaky fingers forced the lid up as her stomach twisted once more. The redhead coughed, choking on the thick black bile as it forced its way up her throat. Her entire body ached. Her hands were shaking so badly they were little more than a blur and her _heart_\- her heart felt like it was about to explode. Hot and slamming against her ribs with every frantic beat, Isla could barely breathe as she lurched forward once more. It hadn't felt so bad in a long time; not since before her surgery.

Hiccupping, the redhead whimpered as her lover touched her back. "Am I dying?"

"No," Deucalion told her, his voice soft and sad as he brushed her long hair from her clammy neck. "It just feels like it."

Shaking her head, Isla cringed and leaned forward once more. Deucalion eased away from her. He watched her shoulders shake as she heaved, but said nothing. Instead, he simply reached out and took one of the hand towels from the bar beside her shower. They were mismatched, peach and lime green, and badly worn, but he paid that no mind as he ran it under the faucet. The bathroom was cramped but clean. The walls were a strange, ugly shade of salmon pink and the paint was so old it had begun to peel.

The woman winced as he pressed the cold cloth to the back of her neck. Glaring at him out of the corner of her eye, she ignored the bit of black ooze that ran down her chin. "What's happening to me?"

"You're healing." Deucalion bent down on one knee and gently pressed the damp cloth to her sweaty forehead. Eyes and voice soft, he eased the rag down her temple. "Once your body expels the illness, you'll be fine."

The woman regarded him skeptically, but was too exhausted to fight. Bottom lip quivering, she fell away from the toilet. Back against the bathtub, she sniffed as Deucalion followed her. He carefully wiped at her face with a gentle touch, cleaning the strange ooze from her lips and chin.

Tears pricked at her eyes at his tenderness and she found her voice once more, "It was all a trick, wasn't it? To see how far you could get with the stupid little human."

The man's lip parted as his brows furrowed. Dropping the cloth, he eased his hand under her jaw and pressed his lips against her own. She tasted like death; the bile leaving her mouth cold and putrid, but the soft, steady beat of her heart was music to his ears. Shaking his head, he dropped his forehead to hers. "It wasn't a trick and I never thought you were stupid."

Isla pulled away from him. Her resistance was weak and her expression pained as she went on, "I should've known you were too good to be true." The redhead bit her lip as the tears she had been fighting cascaded over her lashes. "They all warned me not to get attached, that there was something wrong about you but I didn't listen." A hand went to her hair and she fisted the red strands between her fingers as she began to sob. "I couldn't help it and I wanted you so badly, god, I'm such an _idiot_."

Deucalion frowned. He had spent a long time fantasizing about Isla; about how she looked when she smiled and how she would look splayed out before him in his bed, but he had never wanted to see her cry. "I know you're mad now-"

"I'm not mad, Duke." Isla pulled her hand back to look into his eyes and Deucalion was struck by how utterly _bereft _she looked. "You broke my heart."

The Alpha hung his head and for a moment he wished he was blind again. Wished that he couldn't see her blue eyes bloodshot or the flushed skin of her cheeks or the inky silt that marred her pale throat. With a sigh, he fell to sit beside her. Together they stared ahead of them for a long moment.

"I couldn't let you go." Deucalion tilted his face in her direction but didn't meet her gaze. Instead he stared at her fingers, long and slender and still shaking, as they gripped her bare knees. Her short, clean fingernails dug into her skin, leaving deep indents and thin pink lines. "I need you. I need you to help me to be human again."

Isla sighed and shook her head. "I wouldn't have gone."

Her words rang true, despite the fact that they were a lie. There had been no stutter of her heart, no sharp scent of a lie, but she would have left him. Maybe not of her own free will, but she would have died. Her death would have left him to his own devices once more and the very thought of being alone after being with her made his heart ache. The Alpha nosed at her cheek a moment before he kissed her forehead.

"What I did, it saved your life." Deucalion leaned away from her to peer down at her melancholy features. "You'll never have to go to another hospital again. Never need another doctor."

Isla shrank back from him with a hint of meekness. "But I said no."

The man's jaw clenched as he eyed her. He stood gracefully and offered his hand to her. After a moment's hesitation she took it and Deucalion eased her up and led her to the mirror. Calloused hands turned her to face it and the young woman met his gaze in their reflection. The Alpha stood behind her, eyes proud and a small, pleased smirk on his lips as he slipped her fiery hair from her shoulders.

Her tank top was a seafoam green and complimented her ivory skin beautifully, but Deucalion didn't allow himself to stare. Ignoring how she tensed, the werewolf slipped an arm around her waist and pressed himself against her back. A clawed finger rose to her chest and pulled the material down.

"See?" Deucalion smiled at her awed expression and with tender fingers stroked the smooth skin where her incision scar had once been. "I wouldn't do anything to hurt you. You can trust me."

Isla winced, unable to take him at his words with her blood still staining his lips. Swallowing, the young woman dropped her gaze from him. "I think I'd like to be alone."

The Alpha nodded and stepped back from her. Immediately missing her body heat and the press of her curves against him, he told her he'd wait for her in the den before he left the bathroom.

The door closed and Isla took a deep breath as her hands fell to the sink. For a few moments, she braced her arms, staring blankly ahead as she thought over everything her lover had done. He was a murderer. A liar. A monster. He had ruined countless people's lives. Still, she had forgiven him for those things before Deucalion had even bit her. It had been so easy to forgive him for all the foul things she hadn't seen; for the horrors he'd done in another lifetime to other people.

Squaring her shoulders, she looked back at her reflection. Curious fingers poked at the strange black goo that stained her throat. It was cold and tacky to the touch. Deucalion had wiped away most of what had dripped down her chin, but she could still taste it.

It tasted like disease.

Grabbing her toothbrush, she applied a liberal amount of toothpaste as she thought over what she should do. The reasonable thing to do would be to leave him. Deucalion had hurt her; he had thrown her to the floor, held her down and took away her humanity. Blue eyes flickered up to her chest as she ground the bristles into her tongue. Unable to tear her gaze from where her scar had sat for so long, Isla thought about what he had said. About never needing another doctor or trip to the hospital and felt a pang of gratitude.

Shame bubbled in her at the idea. She should have hated him for what he had done to her. She should have been angry and she was, but not to the degree she should have been. Isla was more disappointed, more hurt, than truly angry.

It was her own fault. She never should have believed Deucalion could change in the first place. People- _animals,_ her mind corrected, like him didn't change. They made pretty flowery promises but they didn't change. Perhaps it was a little late for her to be learning that, but he had seemed so sincere. Worse, he had seemed so _surprised_ that Isla would be willing to help him try. Like he expected her to turn her back on him after all they'd been through.

True, they hadn't been together long, barely eight weeks, but it felt…real to her. The redhead thought back to how Deucalion had blushed in the diner when she teased him about the twins and how he had put off their physical relationship until he was sure her body could handle it. Worse, she couldn't put off his expression from the hospital. The quiet, worried frown he wore when he thought she was asleep.

Isla spit into the sink and cringed at the sight of the black laced foam. Wiping her mouth, she took a deep breath and steeled her resolve. With one last glance at the clear skin of her chest, the young woman left the bathroom.

Deucalion waited for her in the den. He was holding one of her books in his hands, carefully skimming through the pages and simply touching the words he had so long since seen. The man raised his head to greet her, but was silenced by her expression. Isla's head was held high and her eyes wet, but her features were strikingly defiant.

"You expect me to believe you want to change?" She demanded, gaze fierce as she met his dead on. "After what you just did, are you still going to try to be a good person?"

"I'm going to try-"

"Then you can change." Isla kept her posture stiff as he approached her. "If you can change into a murderer, you can change back…but it will be harder." Her eyes softened slightly before sharpening once more. "So much harder, but if you can't I'm not going to let you hurt innocent people. Do you understand?"

With a hint of amusement, Deucalion asked, "Are you threatening me?"

Blue eyes blinked with surprise a moment before darkening. "Do I have to?"

He moved to cup her chin but the young woman stepped out of his reach. The Alpha let his hand fall back to his side. The realization made his stomach clench. "You're afraid of me."

Isla let out a bark of a laugh that hurt the both of them. "Yeah, yeah, I am."

"You don't have to be."

"Right, because you got what you wanted, right?" Her eyes grew misty once more as the anger returned to them. "I'm a monster now."

"You're not a monster, Isla." The man shook his head. Fiddling with the spine of the book, he told her, "Only your actions will make you a monster."

"Like yours did?"

Deucalion didn't shy away from her rage. "Yes. Like mine did."

For a moment, she was quiet. After carefully considering her words, Isla told him, "I don't think you meant to hurt me." Her bottom lip quivered slightly and she pointedly looked away from him. "I think you wanted to control me, and I don't know which is worse."

Voice and eyes low, he asked, "Do you hate me?"

"No, Deucalion, I could never hate you." Isla swallowed and stepped back from him. Away from his hopeful smile and pleased eyes as she went on, "You tricked me into caring for you and I'll never forgive you for that, but I don't hate you. I just don't like you anymore."

She left him with that, retreating to her bedroom and locking the door behind her.

**A/N: I just want to thank my betas, _SomeoftheFame_ and _PriorToMe_ for all their hard work! **


	2. Chapter 2

Isla pursed her lips as she inspected herself.

With her bedroom door locked firmly behind her, the redhead had wasted no time looking for her childhood scars. For the remnants of scraped knees and elbows, for the slice she had taken out of her ankle the first time she tried shaving. She looked for the burns and cuts from Jimmy's cooking lessons that should have lined her fingers and was a bit disturbed to find them all gone. Isla's entire life had been erased from her skin. It was disheartening, but she supposed it was a fair trade.

Idle fingers rested above her heart and she inhaled deeply. There was no pain. The action was smooth and easy. There was no strain on her heart or battering against her lungs. A smile blossomed over her lips and she clamped her hand over her mouth to keep Deucalion from hearing her delighted laugh.

But he did. A small, pleased smile tugged at the corner of the Alpha's mouth at the muffled sound. It fell from his lips as he realized she had tried to hide it from him. Deucalion glanced down at the book in his hands and thumbed at the engraved title before his gaze lifted to take in the room.

A few photos lined the pale blue walls and another stood proudly beside the radio on the lone shelf of the room. Curious, Deucalion plucked the lone one from its spot. The man in it was in his early fifties and dressed in a mechanic's uniform. His blue eyes matched Isla's. He was only in one other, one with who he assumed to be Autumn, given the resemblance between the redhead in the frame and the girl down the hall. Given their body language, the Alpha supposed the man to be Isla's father. Isla hadn't said much about him and Deucalion had assumed him dead, but the obvious age difference between him and Isla's mother was only slightly surprising. Isla did have a soft spot for older men, after all, and such a trait had to come from somewhere.

Carefully, he set the photo back in its place. The radio beside it was old and beige and seemed to run by crank. With a smirk, Deucalion picked it up, turned down the volume and gave the handle a few tentative winds. Almost immediately, a smooth jazz melody played through its tiny speakers. With it back in its spot, the man continued his inspection of her apartment.

It was hardly immaculate. Tidy, sure, but his new vision was sharp enough to catch the sparse dust particles in the relatively dim light. Various stacks of books were pushed against the wall and stacked on milk crates to keep them from getting wet. A small bundle of papers was strewn about the small rickety table in front of the loveseat. There was no television or computer to be seen. He wasn't terribly surprised. The few times he had chanced looking around with his alpha vision Deucalion had never seen one but the confirmation struck him as strange.

Feet slow and heavy with exhaustion he made his way over to the small A.M radio and turned it up just a tad. Keeping the music relatively quiet, Deucalion took a seat on the floor a few feet from the loveseat. He didn't chance sitting on it and being drenched in Isla's scent, not with the moon still full and high and his control not quite as stable as he would have liked. It would be all too easy for him to rip the door of her bedroom off its hinges and simply have her whether she wanted it or not, but hurting women, or at least innocent women, had never been in his nature. Much less hurting them with sexuality; as much as a monster as he was Deucalion had never sunk so low as to rape anyone.

Sighing, he let his head fall back against the couch. The corduroy was a pale shade of green and worn in places. In fact, most of the apartment seemed to share that quality; worn and cheap. Tired eyes flickered around it, never staying in one place too long as he tuned into the young woman's heartbeat. A smile stretched along his lips as he listened to it. Pleased by how steady and strong it was, Deucalion leaned forward and pulled one of the papers toward him.

When morning finally broke, the Alpha was still sitting there. His eyes were heavy and sore from exertion, but he couldn't bring himself to sleep. It was too dangerous. Under the soft tinkle of piano keys from the radio, Deucalion could hear Isla rising. Rough fingers rubbed at his eyes and he looked up as the redhead appeared in the kitchen. She didn't notice him, or at least pretended not to as she opened her fridge. With a touch more anxiety than he would've liked, the man rose from the floor and approached her.

Isla paused. Holding the block of cheese in her hand, she eyed him curiously. Tone surprisingly droll, she commented, "You're still here."

Deucalion nodded but said nothing.

A bit impressed, the girl shrugged. "I didn't think you would stick around."

"I said I wanted to change." The man chanced closing a few more feet between them. "I meant it."

Isla's blue eyes roamed over his face. He looked tired and pale and the young woman felt a pang of sympathy for him. A moment passed before she nodded. "Okay. Good. I'm glad to hear it."

Lifting a doubtful brow, he asked, "Are you?"

"I am."

There was no lie in her scent, just a bit of uncertainty, but Deucalion could live with that. Hands clenching at his sides, the man moved to around the kitchen table. It was one of the cheap plastic kinds people often kept in their backyard, which fit the fact that her chairs were lawn chairs quite well. Tapping his fingers along the top of it, he took in the expanse of her impossibly long legs. The pajama shorts she wore only skimmed the top of her thighs and he was incredibly tempted to pull them down with his teeth.

"Stop it."

Deucalion lifted his head and met her gaze with an innocent smirk. "What?"

Isla's blue eyes narrowed subtly at him. Begrudging amusement sparkled in them as she shook her head. "Whatever you're thinking about. Stop it."

"Why would I do something like that?" He swept his gaze slowly over her legs, over the swell of her hips and licked his teeth at the sight of her nipples tenting the thin material of her nightshirt.

With a blush coloring her pale cheeks, the woman glared at him. Uncomfortable, she turned away from him to grab a pot and turned the stove on. Voice weak and squirming restlessly, she told him, "Because I can smell it."

A wicked grin crossed Deucalion's lips. "Oh? And what do I smell like?"

"You smell like sex," The young woman told him a bit nervously. With her back to him, she went about gathering the ingredients as she spoke, "So knock it off."

Smirking, the Alpha leaned casually against the counter. He kept his distance from the woman; her scent was too skittish to approach, so he contented himself to simply look at her. Her fingers were nimble and quick, her movements slightly jilted as she attempted to avoid getting too close to him. With a pot of macaroni on the stove and a block of cheese grated and set aside, the young woman washed her hands. Drying her hands off on an old dish towel, she asked what it was he was going to do with himself.

"Now that you have your vision and no pack," she explained.

"I have you."

Her features tightened a touch. Swallowing, she moved around him to grab the milk from the fridge. Voice soft, she told him, "I don't want you to bite anyone else." She met his stare and with a hint of finality, ordered, "Promise me, Duke."

Irritation bubbled in Deucalion. Eyes narrow, he shook his head. "You don't understand- we're not a proper pack with only one Beta. We need at least three."

Less than a foot from him, she swallowed. "Promise me, Deucalion, or you'll have none at all."

Stubborn, he dropped his gaze. "It's not your place to dictate my actions, Isla."

"Because I'm a Beta?" When the man merely shrugged in reply, Isla set the milk on the counter and took him by the shoulders. Her fingers were cold against his skin. It was then she realized he was in the same clothes as the night before, the same ripped blue t-shirt stained with blood and felt her throat catch at the thought that some of it was most definitely her own. "We can't do this if you're going to view me as a subordinate, Duke. I want a partner, not a boss."

Deucalion chuckled, more rueful than amused. "You don't understand-"

"I understand plenty." The woman flinched slightly, letting him go as his gaze snapped to hers. Rolling her shoulders in an anxious manner, she ignored the sharpness in his eyes as she continued, "I expect certain things from you; respect, for starters. You're not going to control or manipulate me and if you only view me as a Beta, I'm always going to be someone you have to discipline."

"I respect you-"

Isla's blue eyes grew stormy. "No you don't. If you respected me you never would've bit me, but you did and now you have to deal with the consequences. You want to be responsible for me?" She nodded encouragingly, her voice clear and sincere in the bright artificial light of the kitchen. "Fine, great! That's a two way street when it comes to me and you, but I am not going to let you order me around like you did with the twins or whoever else you used to run around with." Features earnest, she thumbed at the exposed skin of his collarbone. "We're either on equal footing or separate ground, that's all there is to this, okay?"

Her eyes searched his, desperate for something Deucalion didn't totally comprehend. Maybe she wanted him to say no; for him to reject her proposal and end things between them. The idea stung, but he understood it. Still, there was something about her scent that made him pause. Something sweet and unfamiliar that reminded him of affection and it was almost startling for him to realize it was hope. She wanted him to say yes, wanted them to be his partner and Deucalion recalled what she had said about being responsible for him.

Licking his teeth, he offered her a stiff nod. "I'll consider it."

"Good." Isla swallowed and bit her lips before stepping back to grab the milk off the counter.

After a few moments, he approached her again. Deucalion had always been attracted to strong women and while Isla had always had a quiet tenacity about her, he had to admit he found her new force very attractive. With a hint of amusement, he watched as her hips began to restlessly twitch, her cheeks flushing as she bit her lip under his stare.

"You're doing it again," The young redhead complained. Still, she never took her eyes off the roux in front of her and didn't complain as the man began to touch her.

Deucalion ignored her, choosing instead to frame her hips by bracing the counter in front of her. Isla's scent sparked with a hint of trepidation as he pressed against her back. He watched her swallowed, inhaled her scent as it sweeten with arousal and fear as he leaned in to brush his nose against her ear.

Voice low and dark with want, he pressed a kiss to her bare shoulder. "Do you know how hard it's been keeping my distance? Being able to see you walk around in half-naked and smelling like one of my own? Smelling like you belong to me?" He slipped the curtain of orange hair from her shoulder. Letting his thumb trace the shell of her ear, Deucalion cooed, "A torture made even worse not being able to touch you as I please."

"You're not doing a very good job of it right now," Isla replied. Her words were breathy, her skin hot and eager for his touch and she had to fight to remind herself she was still mad at him.

Deucalion tutted with a hint of mirth. Nose brushing along the thin strap of her green tank top, he asked, "Why are you teasing me? Are you trying to provoke me?" He stroked his fingers along the edge of her basketball shorts, letting them ghost along the silk of her inner thighs and repressed the urge to grind his cock against her ass at her shudder. Tone accusing and eyes bright, he continued, "Trying to show me what I can't have? Is this your way of punishing me, Isla?'

Swallowing, the young woman squirmed against the hard press of his hips. As she tried to ignore the smell of his arousal, tried to ignore the hard line of his cock against her back, she squeaked out, "I haven't done anything wrong."

"I've dreamt about what you look like for so long…" At the whisper of his fingertips against her labia he pulled his hands away from her legs and instead slipped them around her waist.

She didn't deserve the pressure he put on her; the pressure to submit and lose her morals for him. She deserved better than that. Touch light and body distant, Deucalion sighed. He wanted more. Wanted to see every inch of her pale flesh laid out beneath him and find every freckle embedded in it. He wanted to watch it flush pink as he scratched his stubble along her thighs and see her long orange hair dark with sweat from their love-making. More than anything he wanted to rest against her chest and feel the now steady beat of her heart against his cheek but Deucalion resisted because she hated him. At least for now, perhaps forever. Just because she let him grope at her in her kitchen didn't mean she wanted him to.

Quiet, he slipped his thumbs under the hem of her tank top, the pads of them gently stroking her cool skin as the Alpha asked, "Do you think one day you'll be able to forgive me?"

Isla shook her head, but didn't lift her eyes from the roux. Bitter and sad at his attempts at seduction (or manipulation or whatever he had just done to her that made her want him, made her want to tear off her skin to sate the itch of _want _under it), the young woman winced as her voice cracked with her answer. "You mean fuck you again?"

"No." Her Alpha nosed at the back of her head. With a sigh, he inhaled the scent of her hair, the jasmine shampoo familiar and comforting. "I mean forgive."

"I hope so," She replied honestly. Turning her face ever so slightly, she brushed their temples together. Eyes closed, Isla promised, "If you try so will I, okay?"

Deucalion nodded and buried his face in her shoulder, tired and needy for her affection.

**A/N: I just want to thank my betas,**_**SomeoftheFame**_**and**_**PriorToMe. **_


	3. Chapter 3

After detangling herself from Deucalion, Isla put the macaroni in the oven. She chanced a glance at the clock over the stove and hummed. It was nearly ten. Rubbing her hands over her face, the young woman sighed.

"So," Isla started, crossing her arms and looking to the man seated at her table. "I've got to start getting ready. You can leave or stay here, I don't care which, but you have _got_ to get some sleep."

The Alpha shrugged. "I'm not tired."

She frowned at him. Her expression was incredibly doubtful and a bit amused as she told him, "Duke. You reek of exhaustion and frankly, you look like hell." The woman approached him on long legs and gently brushed her fingers over his cheeks. At his startled expression, she smiled softly. "Get some sleep. We'll talk when I get home."

Deucalion closed his eyes as Isla pressed a kiss to his forehead. Her touch lingered a moment, thumbing his cheeks in a gentle manner that made his heart ache before she pulled away. When he opened them, she had left the kitchen and he could hear in the bathroom. With a low sigh, the man leaned forward and rested his aching eyes on the heels of his hands. The thought of sleep was frightening. He couldn't risk it. He couldn't risk losing his vision again because he got _tired_. Not so soon, anyway. Not with Isla still mad at him- he needed to see her happy, at least once.

There were still so many things he needed to learn about her. He needed to know what she looked like when she giggled, what she looked like in green and grey and blue.

He needed to know what she looked like naked.

A quiet pittering made him pause. Deucalion lifted his head at the sound. His gaze drifted to the tiny window above the sink and he quickly made his way to it. A frown crossed his lips at the light rain that hit the glass. Stomach in knots, he wondered if he had repeated Kali's mistake. Perhaps his claws hadn't done an… adequate job finishing off the Baccari woman. Features growing grim, the man listened as his lover got out of the shower and made her way down the hall to her room. He would have to return to the distillery to make sure the Darach was dead- and to pick up the jacket he had left there.

Sighing, the Alpha returned to the table just in time for his lover to enter the kitchen.

Isla had looked almost exactly how he had pictured; with her long hair and sweet face, but he had been off about a few things. The shade of her hair, for one. It wasn't as dark as he imagined, her hair more orange than red, but lovely all the same. The color of her scar had been another; it had been darker than he had expected before it smoothed into pale skin.

The thought of her scar led into thoughts of her tears and Deucalion cringed. His stomach tightened as he remembered how Isla had clawed at his shoulders, desperate to get away from him. How she had sobbed and called him a liar and accused him of using her. How she had thought he was _too good to be true_ and he ran his fingers through his hair.

Deucalion stared at the cheap plastic top of the table that braced his elbows. It was white. It had been so long since he had been able to see white.

Isla slipped into the kitchen and he quickly shifted his gaze to her once more. She was dressed in faded blue jeans and a juniper green hoodie that complimented her skin nicely. The girl –and she was a _girl_, Deucalion could see why her boss had been so unsettled by the age difference now- offered him a tight smile as she moved to grab the oven mitts on the counter. While she didn't look like she was fresh out of high school, the age difference between them was painfully apparent. Even more so when she looked over at him with concerned blue eyes and asked him what was wrong.

Deucalion mutely shook his head. "Nothing." He glanced down at the pot in her hands. "Where are you off to then?"

Isla's gaze leveled. "Why? Planning on keeping tabs on me, Duke?"

"No. Just curious."

"Well, I'm going out. Places to go, people to see… and feed," she added a bit lamely as she held up the pot. A hint of a blush crossing her cheeks, she fought a smile off her lips. "So…you can stay or go, but…" the redhead faltered. She approached cautiously, gaze soft as she peered down at him. "Try and get some sleep, okay?"

Her Alpha nodded and resisted the urge to smile when she bumped his shoulder with her hip. He listened to her leave, listened to her footsteps become distant and quiet before he stood. Lips pursed, Deucalion wasted no time.

It had begun to rain, very lightly, by the time he reached the distillery. Reaching down to retrieve his jacket, the man swallowed at the sight of the barren ground. Julia Baccari was gone with only a blood trail left in her wake. Deucalion shrugged on his jacket as he began to follow it.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, it led to a corpse. The Darach was laid out on the Nemeton. She had no heartbeat and no pulse (the Alpha checked) and was most certainly dead. Disturbed that she had been able to make it so far, Deucalion quickly dragged her body away from the tree stump. It was unlikely she could be healed by it again, but he wasn't about to take any risks. With Julia Baccari disposed of, the werewolf left the woods.

He briefly considered what he should do next; the thought of returning to Isla's empty apartment didn't appeal to him (he didn't want to be tempted by sleep) and he wasn't ready to face his empty penthouse just yet. Digging his claws into his palms, Deucalion clenched his jaw. With a blink, he looked down at them. A bit unsettled by the blood that lined his sharp nails, he remembered an old custom from his grandparents' time. One that may win him back Isla's favor- or one she would find incredibly barbaric.

Letting his fangs elongate, Deucalion shrugged on his jacket. In the soft autumn rain, the man set out for the nearest hardware store.

It was still raining when Isla got off the bus. With her hood up, the young woman all but ran down the block to the Stilinski house. It felt good- being able to take more than a few steps without the ache in her chest or the pain in her limbs from lack of circulation. Resisting the urge to smile (she was still mad at Deucalion, damn it, even if she had to force herself to be when faced with the benefits of the bite) and jogged up the porch.

A surprisingly steady finger jabbed at the doorbell. The usual clatter of limbs could be heard on the other side before a telltale "damn it," was uttered. The fact that she could hear it was a bit unnerving (just as the horrid smells from the bus had been), but she kept her features school as the living mass of limbs opened the door.

Stiles blinked at her. Surprise was evident on his young features, but so was relief. "Hey, Izzie, what's up?"

"You grew your hair out!" She greeted him with a warm smile and offered him the pot of macaroni and cheese. "It looks good on you."

The boy accepted her brief hug and ushered her into his house. Closing the door tightly behind her, he locked the door with a brief, "Thanks."

"I'm just making sure you and your dad are alright." She pushed her hood back and followed him to the kitchen.

Stiles shrugged and set the pot down on the counter. As he went about gathering a bowl and a set of silverware, he replied with a casual tone, "Yeah, I mean, he's fine. Mostly fine. A bit, you know, rattled, but okay. He's asleep upstairs."

Isla watched him a moment. He was his usual spastic self, all awkward shrugs and nervously tapping fingers, but he reeked of anxiety. Squinting at him from the doorway of the kitchen, she asked, "And how are you?"

"Me?" He blinked in surprise. "Oh, I'm fine. No big deal."

The redhead frowned. It was unsurprising that the Stilinski boy would lie to her, but it hurt all the same. She had known him long enough to expect nothing less.

Stiles arched a brow as he scooped some of the mac and cheese into the bowl. "So, did you just stop by to give me food or…?"

"Pretty much." Isla offered a shrug of her own as she slipped her hands in the front pocket of her sweatshirt. "I'm just on my way to my mom's. I wanted to check in before the barrage of well-wishers come knocking at your door."

Stiles smiled. He had always liked Isla. Not romantically or anything (at least, not romantically since he was about eight), but he had always been able to rely on her kindness. She had always been quick to check on him and his dad; whether it was to make sure they had groceries or the bills were paid or even just to make sure they were doing okay. After his mother had died, the redhead had tried her best to help any way she could. Even long after all the other _well-wishers_ had stopped coming around, had stopped caring about the Stilinskis or Claudia, Isla had. Her concerns always seemed genuine and gentle in a way that reminded Stiles of his own mother. Perhaps it was just a maternal trait, seeing as how Melissa McCall often had the same effect on him without meaning to.

Eyes narrowing slightly, he noticed that she looked different. Her skin was more pale than pallor and her body language was more relaxed than he had seen in a long time. Smiling slightly to himself, he nodded to her. "Thanks, Izzie."

"Happy to help." Isla smiled and kicked off from the wall. Shooting a wink at him, she told him to take care of his dad and stay out of trouble before she left.

With her hood back in place, the young woman didn't bother to get back on the bus. She had spent so much time in hospital beds it was nice to be able to walk around. Before she always had to worry about her heart giving out even after the briefest of exercise. Now she could do as she pleased. Walk, run, jump- anything was on the table for her. With a hint of a bounce in her step, she made it to her mother's house in only a few minutes (despite the fact that her mother lived nearly halfway across town).

Her mother greeted her with a tight hug.

"Hey, miss me?" the girl teased with a wide smile.

Autumn reluctantly pulled away. Smoothing her daughter's hair back, she opened her mouth to speak before she paused. Fingers brushing over Isla's cheek, she asked, "What happened to your face?"

The taller redhead raised curious fingers to her face. "What do you mean?"

"I mean your bruises! They're all gone- and that cut…" Her mother frowned, clearly a bit disturbed. "You've healed."

"In more ways than one."

Autumn blinked. Hesitant, she asked what that meant.

"We should go inside." Isla told her with a faint smile. "There's some stuff I need to tell you."

**A/N: I just want to thank my beta,**_** PriorToMe. **__**Also, I'd love to see if anyone is still interested in this story. The last chapter only got 3 reviews, which was a little jarring considering the first got 18. **_


	4. Chapter 4

**TRIGGER WARNING: SEE BOTTOM NOTE FOR DETAILS BEFORE PROCEEDING. **

The living room was almost devastatingly silent. Autumn sat perfectly still, staring at the smooth skin of her daughter's chest where a scar should have been. Fingers pressed to her lips, she listened as Isla explained what had happened to her, what Deucalion had done.

"I don't think he meant to hurt me," the girl explained as she did up the few buttons of her shirt. Her fingers weren't quite steady. Jittery with nerves, Isla cleared her throat as she pulled on her sweat shirt. "I think he panicked."

Biting her lip, she chanced a glance from her mother's thin mouth to her eyes and cringed at the tears she found in them. Her own began to well at the sight of them and she quickly dropped her gaze to her hands. "I don't know if I'm going to stay with him, but he fixed me, Mom."

Autumn squeezed her eyes shut and covered them with one hand.

"Mom, Mom, don't… please don't be sad…" The redhead sighed as her mother began to sob. Easing onto her knees in front of her, Isla pulled her arm down.

Autumn refused to meet her gaze, biting her lip and looking anywhere but at her daughter.

Swallowing, Isla went on, her tone a bit firmer, "He fixed me. I'll never have to go to another hospital again, Mom. I won't have to get that surgery or get another scope."

With a heavy heart, she admitted something that had been haunting her since the night before. "I know it's sick but I'm so grateful. What he did- I wasn't brave enough to take the chance and he shouldn't have made it for me, but I'm so fucking relieved, Mom."

The woman nodded, a bit frantic and a bit flustered as she agreed, "I know. I know, I am too, really, sweetheart, I'm so happy for you." Cupping Isla's cheeks, Autumn pulled the girl forward to press a kiss to her brow. As she held her daughter close, she sniffed. "But if he ever lays a hand on you again-"

"Technically he laid teeth."

Unamused, Autumn held Isla at arm's length. Features tense and flushed, she snapped, "Isla Rae."

The younger redhead squirmed in her hold. Shoulders rolling restlessly, Isla floundered slightly under her mother's stern stare. "I know what you're saying- but what if I can help him? What if I can keep him from hurting other people?"

"By letting him hurt you?!"

"He hasn't yet! He hasn't even tried to!" She craned her neck to rest her cheek on Autumn's hand. "Maybe he just needs an anchor- maybe I can be that for him." With a hint of shame, she dropped her gaze and her voice as she admitted, "Maybe I want to be that for him."

Her mother sighed and stroked her cheek tenderly. Tears still flowing from her eyes, Autumn frowned. "Don't be a martyr for a man who doesn't deserve it, Isla."

"What if he does?" The younger woman sat up a bit straighter. "What if he can be a good man? He's been good to me, I know he can change if he wants to. It just…takes time."

"I know it does. But…"

"It's harder to change back," they finished together. When Autumn frowned, Isla carried on, "I know… But I think he'll try; if not for himself than for me. I think he cares about me."

At her mother's scoff, Isla bit her lip. She thought back to how tenderly Deucalion had cleaned the strange black goo from her lips and how he had held her in the kitchen. She remembered how he felt flush against her back and how gently he had touched her. The whisper of his lips against her ear and how he had quietly asked for her forgiveness and the young woman knew that the dangerous Alpha cared for her in his own morbid way.

Voice firm, Isla nodded, "I know he does. If he didn't he wouldn't have told me all those terrible things. He didn't have to. He could've kept me in the dark and bit me and kept on being an animal, but he didn't."

Autumn sighed. "I don't like it."

"I know."

"And I don't trust him." The woman pushed her daughter's orange hair from her eyes and gently fixed the top of her sweatshirt. "But I trust you."

Isla nodded and kissed the back of her mother's hand. "Thank you."

Her fingers tightened around her daughter's to the point of pain. Frowning, Autumn lifted the girl's chin to meet her gaze. "But you have to promise me you'll get out of there if anything happens. You have to promise me you'll leave him if he so much as _looks_ at you the wrong way. Promise me, Isla."

"I promise."

The words were still echoing around inside her head when Isla made her way back to her apartment. The last time her mother had made her promise anything, she had been 18 and about to go under the knife. _You come back to me, Isla Rae, you fucking promise me_, Autumn had pleaded from beside her hospital bed. The same kind of dread, the same kind of horrible apprehension that she wouldn't be able to keep her word made Isla's stomach knot. She wanted to be strong and independent, but she knew she needed Deucalion. At least for now. Her body was changing in ways she didn't understand and she needed a guide and, well, she hadn't been lying when she told him she wanted to be partners.

Licking her teeth, the young redhead fought back a sigh. Rough fingers wiped the rainwater from her face as she slid her key into the lock.

The first thing that struck her was the smell. Her apartment smelled…strange. Isla frowned and sniffed at the air. It was metallic and heavy and she fought the urge to gag. It was a horrible, feral smell that made her skin ache and blood race. Her gaze flickered around the hall; nothing was out of the ordinary. Slowly, she pulled off her shoes and soundlessly set them beside Deucalion's black leather loafers. Apprehension made her stomach tight. On quiet feet, Isla crept toward the source of the scent.

In the bathroom, Deucalion winced. The pliers in his hands shook, the handle of them sticky in his fist. They were too slick to get a proper grip anymore and he let them fall to the edge of the sink as he brought his fingers to his mouth. Setting his teeth down on the claw of his index finger, the Alpha growled and _ripped_. The pain was almost excruciating, but nothing worse than he had been subjected to before as the claw was torn from the bone in his knuckle. A pulse of blood splattered against the mirror as he spit his nail into the sink. It clattered against the porcelain before settling next to the other six claws.

Wrinkling his nose, he realized his wasn't the only blood he could smell. A faint hint of Julia Baccari's still lingered under his claws and it sickened him to know he had touched Isla with a piece of her. Lips pulled back in a sneer, he grabbed the pliers from where he had set them beside the bladed tip of his cane.

"_What the hell are you doing?"_

The Alpha froze at the weakness in his lover's voice.

Unable to move, Isla could only stare at him from the doorway. Her gaze flickered from his shaking hands and the thick trail of blood that ran over his palms and forearms to the drops of it on her white tiled floor. His mouth was stained with it as well as his shirt and the front of his pants.

"Duke?"

He didn't answer her, instead just held the pliers a bit tighter before he slid the claw of his thumb into its mouth. He ripped it out with a pant and let it fall to the sink.

Slowly, he dragged his eyes to where Isla stood in the doorway. She was pale. Too pale and too young as her bottom lip quivered. In that moment, Deucalion knew he had made a mistake. Isla wasn't a born werewolf; she didn't understand the significance of what he was doing and frankly, he suspected she may be too soft-hearted to care. "Isla…"

"What are you doing?" She repeated, horrified and disgusted by the scent of pain and blood. Eyes wide, the young woman all but stormed into the bathroom. To his surprise, when she took his hand, it was gentle despite the rage in her voice, "Well?! What the hell is this?!"

The man licked a bit of his blood off his teeth. Frowning, he held the pliers firm as she tried to pry them from his shaking hand. "It's a tradition in my family-"

"Tradition?" Isla breathed with a mirthless laugh. Cradling his busted, bleeding fingers with care, she cringed. Tears pricked at her eyes when she realized how badly his hands were shaking, at how the wounds refused to close and were left gaping and bloody and she reached blindly behind her. Popping open the small drawer, the young woman shook her head.

The Alpha licked his lips as she pulled out a roll of bandages. "Don't. I'm not finished yet."

Her eyes snapped to his. Tears lined her blue eyes as she shook her head. "Yes, you are."

"It has to be a complete set." Swallowing, Deucalion pressed the bloodied handle of the pliers into her palm. "I need your help."

"No!"

Her lover eyed her sympathetically, but held her wrist tight. "I need you to take out my teeth."

"No!" Isla tried in vain to pull away from him. "Damn it, Dee-"

"I have to make amends." Deucalion drew her to his chest. Ignoring how she refused to meet his gaze, he nosed at her temple. "I hurt you. Don't you want to return the favor?"

The young woman shook her head before she buried her face in his neck. Arms thrown around his shoulders, she pulled him close and buried her fingers in his sandy hair. "No."

"Please." The Alpha pressed his lips against the top of her head and clenched his hands. His fingertips sang with the pain of it, but he ignored them. Setting them on the indent of her waist, he sighed into her hair. "I can't do it myself."

"No!" She snapped at him. Her voice was strained with tears as she thumbed at the nape of his neck.

"Isla."

The Beta pulled back from him with a glower. At his frown, she dropped her eyes to the sink. Her features crumbled at the sight of his blood and his claws. Covering her face, she stifled a sob. When Deucalion eased her back to his chest, she met his gaze. Her eyes sharpened and she delicately traced his brow with her thumb. "You haven't been to sleep yet, have you?"

"Does it matter?"

"Yes! Because this is exactly the kind of fucked up shit people get up to when they don't sleep for two days, Duke!"

The Alpha sighed. "You don't understand-"

"No, I don't." Isla pulled back from him and took his hands once more. She cringed at how red his fingers were. "We need to get you to a doctor."

"Werewolves don't have much of a need for doctors."

She frowned and thumbed at his palms. Her hands grew red and slick with his blood. Grabbing the bandages, she gently began to wrap them around the tip of his pinky. As she pulled a pair of scissors out of the drawer, she asked, "So there aren't any?"

"There's one." Deucalion chuckled, somewhat bitterly, as she cut the thin white gauze and taped it into place. "But he doesn't like me. At least not anymore."

Isla didn't look up from his hands as she continued to fuss over his digits. Irritated by his caprice, she swallowed. "And there's only one werewolf doctor in the entire world?"

A smirk drifted over the Alpha's mouth. His lover's touch was incredibly tender despite her obvious annoyance (and perhaps a bit of fear, judging by her scent) and Deucalion was only vaguely aware of the pain in his hands. "Well, him and his sister…but I recently stabbed her so I doubt she'll be willing to help."

"Then I guess he's our better bet, huh?" The redhead met his gaze. His eyes were lined with dark circles and his stubble thick and with a hint of curiosity, Isla asked him why he hadn't slept.

"I can't."

"Did you try?" The Beta moved to his other hand and tried her best to ignore the stench of blood that filled the air. It was thick and humid in the small bathroom and she barely resisted the urge to snap at him again.

"I can't," Deucalion repeated, frustration clear in his voice. When she chanced a glance at him, he explained, "I can't risk losing it again. What if I wake up and it's gone?"

"Then we'll deal with that," she told him with a weak smile. "Just like we did before."

"But now I know what I'll be missing." The man's gaze softened at her. With an unsteady hand, he cupped her cheek and ignored how she flinched as his bloody palm brushed her jaw. "I don't know if I could bear to lose it a second time."

"Then let's go to the doctor. Find out for sure." Isla kissed his wrist. The scent of his blood, of his pain, was making her a bit crazy, but she kept her composure well. "At least then we'll know for sure."

The Alpha nodded. "I have to finish this first."

With a shake of her head, the young woman let out a bitter pant of a laugh. "Why? Why is this so important to you?" Hating how her voice cracked, she continued, "Why do you have to mutilate yourself?!"

He arched a brow at her. "What? You don't approve? I never would have guessed."

"Deucalion!"

With a smirk, he turned away from her. He turned on the facet and began to collect his claws. Cupping them in both hands, the man carefully washed away the blood that lined them. The bandages were already ruined, already stained through from his fingertips, so he hardly felt any guilt about ruining all of his lover's hard work. "It's a tradition in my family…in quite a few families, actually."

With a hint of annoyance, he realized he still had the claws of both the thumb and index finger of his right hand intact. "If you hurt someone, especially someone you care about, you have to make a promise not to do it again." Deucalion frowned and reached down to pull out the box he had stashed under the sink. It was ornately decorated and made of incolay stone. He had made it in his teens and taken it with him when he moved to America. "When my grandfather was a child, he bit his younger sister and she lost two of her fingers. So his father held him down and ripped out his fangs."

"That's awful," Isla breathed.

"When you're a wolf, you have to learn how dangerous you are at a young age." Deucalion began to gently arrange his claws in the thin notches that lined the velvet bottom of the box. "He said once you know that kind of pain, you hesitate to ever inflict it on anyone else. Even the thought of it sickens you."

Licking his eyeteeth, he carefully set the bladed tip from his white cane in the box as well. It was more a promise to himself than to Isla, a vow never to use it on her or discipline her like he had the twins.

"But he was just a boy…he couldn't have meant to-"

"I'm not saying it was right." Deucalion turned to face her. He flexed his fingers. The pain was intense but it was nothing compared to what his eyes had been. The feeling of his body desperately trying to heal was familiar though- the feeling of his claws trying to extend reminding him of how his eyes had felt when he struggled to see, the odd empty feeling of it and the strange vibrations under his nailbed as they tried and failed to close reminding him of the headaches he used to get after Gerard left him at the Distillery. "I'm saying it was effective."

Unsteady hands picked up the box and offered it to her. Isla stared at him a long moment, but stayed silent as her lover spoke.

"I promise I won't hurt you again, Isla. I swear it."

"And hurting yourself is supposed to make me feel better?" She shook her head with a sigh. "I don't want that. I want you to promise me you'll never hurt _anyone_ again, including yourself."

Deucalion frowned. "I have to keep us safe."

"But not at the expense of innocent people." Isla touched the top of his hand. Running her fingertips tenderly over his knuckles and down to his wrist, she added, "Or yourself."

He nodded once. "I promise."

"Good." His lover mimicked his nod and swept some of his sandy hair from his sweat damp brow. "Now let's go see that doctor."

The man hummed with distaste, but nodded. "Fine."

His annoyance waned as she smiled at him. Her eyes were still red with tears and his blood stained her cheek, but there was warmth in her face. Resisting the urge to melt into her touch, Deucalion sighed.

_**Trigger Warning for self-harm and gore. **_

**Sorry for the wait, I gave this to my beta a while ago and they never got back to me. So this is sadly unbetaed. **


	5. Chapter 5

Jaw set, Isla rolled her eyes over to Deucalion as she moved to stand in front of him. The Alpha didn't meet her glare, nor was he particularly bothered by it. He merely tilted the umbrella in her direction and said nothing as she huffed. "Okay, so I know you have kind of a morbid sense of humor, and honestly, it's one of the things I dig about you, but we need to get you to a doctor."

"This is the doctor," her lover replied. One of his hands slipped around her waist and he pulled her out of the rain and to his side.

Isla's blue eyes squinted at him. A raindrop caught on her lashes and she blinked it away. "You better not be messing with me."

"I assure you I am not." Deucalion eased her toward the veterinarian's door. He ushered her inside with a quiet nod before he joined her, closing the umbrella as he did.

Isla was quick to take it from him. With a tight grip on the handle, she was thankful the Alpha had the good sense to put a cardigan over his undershirt (and a jacket over that). The smell of blood still lingered around him, but it had been muted by the rain and the soap he had used to wash it from his face and arms. Her gaze swept over him and, ignoring the few red stains on his jean, she swept some of his damp hair back from his forehead.

Deucalion smirked at her concern before he caught her wrist in an affectionate bite.

Isla slapped his shoulder before she turned back to the counter. It was empty, but with her new hearing abilities she could hear someone puttering around in the back. Righting her baggy baseball jacket, the young woman cautiously approached the small silver bell on the counter top.

The ring of it was piercing and loud, but it got the desired reaction…and an undesired reaction in the form of what seemed to be every dog in the building going out of its damn mind.

"Just a moment, please," a deep masculine voice greeted from the back.

"Take your time, Alan," Deucalion replied. He considered raising his voice to be heard over the howls of dogs, but instead chose to merely offer a low growl. The animals were immediately silenced before he spoke. A smirk drifted over his lips at Isla's chuckle.

"Not nice, Dee."

He shrugged. Chancing a glance at her, the man beamed at the sight of her blushing cheeks and ill suppressed smile. Pleased to have elected that response from her, he lifted a shoulder. "Effective though."

The man who emerged from the back seemed to be about forty, grim faced and clearly displeased by the couple's presence before him. "Deucalion. I've been expecting you." His dark eyes shifted to Isla. Unimpressed, he arched a brow at her. "And you brought company."

The Alpha smirked. His hand gentle on his lover's lower back, he guided the young woman forward. With a nod, Deucalion thumbed the line of her jeans as he introduced them. "Alan Deaton, this is Isla. Isla, Alan."

"Nice to meet you," The young woman told him with a small, awkward smile. "Loving the doctor masquerading as a vet's office. Very 1970s mafia."

"Actually, I _am_ a veterinarian."

"Oh." Isla swallowed and rubbed the back of her neck. "My mistake."

The man looked back to Deucalion. Voice cool and composed, he continued, "I heard about your miraculous recovery. I suppose congratulations are in order."

"I was hoping you would be able to confirm if it's a recovery or just a remission."

Deaton's eyes narrowed subtly on him. "And why would I do something like that?"

"Isn't that what you're here for?" Deucalion smiled. It was cold and wide as he arched a taunting eyebrow. "To help animals in need?"

"Usually animals with your history of violence are put down." Deaton slipped his hands in the pockets of his white coat and cocked a brow that rivalled the Alpha's.

Isla licked her lips be she stepped between them. With one hand on her lover's chest, she moved to put the other on the counter, only to find herself unable. The young woman flinched as her fingers were pushed away by an unseen force. With a frown, she eyed the counter with confusion before she looked to Deaton. Her voice was surprisingly strong as she told him, "If you can help him, you should and if you can't or don't want to, say so and we'll go without trouble- but don't draw this out any longer than it has to be while he's standing here bleeding in front of you."

"Bleeding?" The vet repeated with a hint of intrigue. He looked around her to Deucalion, who refused to meet his gaze as it flickered over him. "He seems fine to me."

Isla frowned and shot her Alpha a glance. Deucalion's hands were slipped inside his jacket pockets. She gave his lapel a gentle tug. Pulling him toward the counter, she urged, "Show him."

Deucalion didn't move.

"You promised," the woman reminded him in a soft voice, too low for Alan to hear.

The Alpha eyed her pinched features and could smell the hint of desperate fear in her scent and obliged her. Annoyed, but unable to deny the simple request she had made out of concern, he stepped around her and showed Deaton his hands.

The human's brows rose at the sight of his bandaged digits. He took a step closer to the counter and hummed. "I see your family upholds the Welsh tradition of bloodletting." Curious, his gaze rose to Deucalion's. "Who did you wrong?"

The Alpha looked to Isla as she raised her hand. With a sheepish blush, she hooked an arm around her lover's waist and admitted, "Uh, me."

"Huh." Deaton's eyes narrowed just a touch. He looked over Isla was new interest; taking in her posture and how gently his former friend touched her hip and back.

"What?" The redhead asked with a bit of trepidation. Her grip tightened around her lover as she looked between them. "He'll be okay, right? They'll grow back?"

"I'm just surprised he would apologize to a Beta in such a…personal manner."

Isla rolled a shoulder and ignored how both men were looking at her; Deaton with his scrutinizing gaze and Deucalion's almost amused eyes making her self-conscious. Under her breath, she muttered, "I wish he hadn't."

Deaton heard her just fine. After a moment's consideration, he opened the counter door and stepped aside. He watched as the girl ushered the Demon Wolf into the back room with careful hands and spoke as she passed him by, "There shouldn't be any lasting damage."

Isla beamed at him. Deaton blinked, a bit struck by the warmth in her expression. It was innocent and bright and so was her voice, "Are you sure?"

"It's an ancient practice. There may be a week or two of discomfort, but they should grow back. Probably closer to a week seeing as your intervention prevented him from completing the set."

A puzzled, but amused, smirk tugged at the young redhead's mouth. "How did-"

The vet shrugged. "Just a feeling."

Deucalion's voice cut between them. "If you two are done, I'd like to get this over with."

Isla chuckled at his drawl and moved to join him in the back room. Deaton followed, eying the man on his exam table with suspicion. The Alpha peered back at him in a similar manner, but said nothing as the emissary moved over to a file cabinet.

The woman slipped over to her lover. Letting her fingertips skim over his knee, she stood before him. Her eyes lingered on the thick stubble that lined his sharp jaw a moment before dropping to his hand. Isla carefully took it in her own. Easing back the bandage on his middle finger, she winced.

"They're still bleeding," she said helplessly. It was a stupid observation, no doubt Deucalion could both see and feel that for himself, but the words had slipped from her lips before she could consider them.

"I imagine they will for some time." He tightened the tape back into place.

Isla moved a bit closer to him. The man took in her cautious posture and eased his knees open invitingly. With a weak smirk, she slid between his legs. Her touch ran over his arm up his bicep to rest on his shoulder. Barely resisting the urge to drop his cheek to it and nuzzle against the soft touch, Deucalion instead let his ankles frame her calves.

The young woman startled when Deaton dropped a file folder beside the Alpha. Its contents spilled out, but the vet paid them no mind as he went to gather his camera. Curious, Isla picked up one of the photos that slipped out of it. The image made her stomach knot. Fresh tears pricked at her eyes and a hand came up to cover her mouth.

It was Deucalion. His eyes still caked with soot and bleeding and the sight made her want to cry. His expression was vacant and his eyes, they were ruined. That much was obvious. The picture had clearly been taken only minutes, or perhaps hours at most, after Gerard Argent had blinded him. With a swallow, Isla reached for one of the others, but couldn't bear to pick it up. She flinched at the sight of it, her fingers skimming over the one where a light had been shone in his eyes, showing just how mutilated he had been. They scared her, but she couldn't look away. Tears pricked at her eyes, unable to forget the sight of him in her bathroom, his claw between his teeth and the dour expression on his tired features.

Out of the corner of her eye she could see her lover frown. It did little to stop her bottom lip from shaking. With a low sigh, Deucalion slipped his hand over the back of her neck. Pulling her closer, he let his brow rest against hers. "Don't cry."

"I'm not crying," Isla sniffed.

Deucalion smirked and tilted her head down so he could place a delicate kiss over her right eye, then her left. Soft and a bit teasing, he told her, "Stop crying."

"I'm not crying!" She snapped at him, but her voice was hoarse.

With a chuckle, her Alpha let his hand wander up to cup her cheek. Fond, the Alpha peered down at her. In the bright lights of the vet's office, Isla's skin was a bit washed out from exhaustion and her hair a mess, but the color of it was intoxicating. Such a brilliant shade of orange after so long of living in a world of blackness; it was nice and he gave into the urge to run it between his aching fingers. She leaned into his touch, her blue eyes dark and glimmering with tears and Deucalion had to resist the urge to sigh. It seemed all he ever got her to do was cry lately. Pensive, he let his uninjured thumb sweep over her temple. "Such a sweet girl."

A smile curled over his mouth as he felt her blush. It splotched her cheeks, twinging them a deep pink as she dropped her head to hide her smile.

Alan cleared his throat behind them. "If you don't mind…I'm ready to start the exam now."

"Oh! Right, sorry, totally…" Isla swallowed and giggled nervously. "Totally lame of us, sorry."

"I work with teenagers," The human told her with a smirk. "I'm used to hormonal mooning."

"Right- wait, you're Alan Deaton." The woman gaped at him, realization coming over her youthful features as she stepped out from between her lover's legs.

The man arched a brow at her. With a hint of wariness, he pulled a penlight out of the pocket of his lab coat. "Yes. I am."

"Scott works for you, right?"

He blinked at her. "You know Scott?"

"Yeah, I mean, I know his mother better, but I used to babysit him." Isla shook her head, a bit bewildered. "Wow, small world, huh?"

"More like small town," Deucalion corrected, not liking this new revelation in the least. Shifting in discomfort, he swallowed as Deaton reached forward to pry his left eye open. He grit his teeth against the bright light, but didn't resist. Isla's fingers gripped his tightly, grounding him and making his chest ache. He hadn't mentioned Scott by name when he explained what had happened at the Distillery; just that a young and up and coming Alpha with a vast amount of potential had given him an ultimatum.

Deaton gave a quiet hum as he moved to Deucalion's other eye.

The young woman's reaction was immediate. Her heart beat kicked up and she pressed closer to them. Her nails bit into Deucalion's skin, not enough to bleed but enough to cause his aching digits a twinge of pain. "What? What's wrong?!"

Deucalion closed his eyes as Deaton pulled the light away. Scott's personality would mesh much better with Isla's than his own. Their ideals were more aligned. She had known him longer. His Beta would be more comfortable with the younger man, could trust him and the idea of Isla leaving him left the Alpha cold.

"It seems as though you've made a full recovery. I don't see anything to imply that it isn't permanent."

Isla squeaked with joy as she shook her lover's hand. Deucalion chuckled but didn't pull away when she planted a kiss on his cheek. Just looked down at their entwined fingers. His were still shaking somewhat, but hers were steady and that was good enough. If she left him, and only took her health with her from all he could offer her, that was good enough.


	6. Chapter 6

Deaton pursed his lips as he held the camera up to Deucalion's eye. The Alpha didn't resist, just sighed. The vet's gaze drifted over to where Isla was speaking softly to a cat in a cage and couldn't help but smirk at the irony, given the young woman's situation.

"What?" Deucalion growled. It earned a glance from his lover, but the redhead turned back to the calico at the subtle shake of her Alpha's head.

Alan's smirk widened. "I'm just surprised is all; I never thought you'd take a female Beta…" He eyed the disheveled man before him with a hint of bitter amusement. "I thought you were uncomfortable fulfilling certain _obligations_ to their kind."

The werewolf heaved a sigh, but said nothing. In truth, Deucalion hadn't considered that his first Beta, his _only_ Beta, was a woman. Worse, a woman he was romantically entangled with, a woman whose trust he was trying to regain and the thought of having to help her through her estrous cycle made his stomach tight. Swallowing, he met Deaton's gaze.

It was unsympathetic, and frankly a bit impudent, but the human said nothing as he snapped another photo of the Demon Wolf's healed eyes. "There are alternatives, you know." The human stepped back. Gathering the photos in the file, he didn't meet the Alpha's gaze as he continued, "If she hasn't accepted you as her Alpha yet, you could place her in another pack. Perhaps Satomi's."

The _or Scott's_ was left unsaid; a wise move on Deaton's part.

Deucalion sneered at him. Eyes flashing a feral red, he stood from the exam table. His chest bumped the shorter man's, but the vet didn't so much as blink. The werewolf bared his fangs at him. "I'm her Alpha. No one is going to take care of her but me."

"You're taking this as a criticism. It's not." Deaton arched a brow. If he was surprised by the outburst, it didn't show on his face. "She's young, I assume fertile, there's clearly something between the two of you…"

Isla cleared her throat. The men looked to find her standing in the doorway of the backroom, the cat purring obnoxiously in her arms. The orange in its fur matched her hair almost perfectly. "If you two are done talking about me like I'm not here…" She paused looking between them to verify that they were. "I think it's time to go."

The men shared a look before Deucalion nodded. "I agree."

The young woman made her way to them and offered the vet the calico. He took it and arched a brow at her. "I assume he's made you aware of his past?"

"He has." Isla nodded and slipped her arm around her Alpha's waist.

Alan eyed how Deucalion thumbed the edge of the woman's jeans, but met Isla's gaze without comment. "And you've decided to stay?"

She inclined her head once more. "Until he gives me a reason not to."

"Making a new Alpha pack?" There was no inflection in Deaton's voice, but there was one in Isla's heartbeat.

Stricken, the girl shook her head. "No! No, that's not what I want at all."

The human's eyes skirted to Deucalion's. Tone even and plain, Deaton told her, "There are other packs. Other Alphas you could go to."

Isla frowned. Aware of how her lover's fingertips dug into her hip, she shook her head once more. Firmer this time. "I want Duke." She nodded, her spine straightening as she put her hand on her Alpha's chest. "He deserves a second chance."

"Why?" Deaton asked with a hint of dissent. "Perhaps your love for him is blinding you to the animal he is."

The young woman blushed, but kept her head high. "Maybe it is." Ignoring how Deucalion was looking at her, the fond surprise of his tired features and how his eyes lit up with hope, Isla went on, "And maybe I'll regret it, but it's my choice. Now please show us out."

Alan considered her words a moment before he nodded. Isla offered him a demure smile and thanked him... or at least started to before her lover reached out and grabbed the human by the front of his lab coat.

Eyes a vibrant, murderous red, Deucalion yanked Deaton close. Voice low and grave, he warned, "Never do that again."

"Duke!" His Beta pulled at his arm, but it was fruitless. Even with the strength he had given her that made her a bit stronger than the average Beta, she was still just that; a Beta and he was the _Alpha of Alpha's_. Still, Isla tried. "Deucalion, stop it!"

She could see the shake in his arm, in his hand and quickly took hold of his wrist.

Deucalion ignored her. He could only see Deaton's smirk and taunting eyes and he hated him. He hated the risk Alan was; that it would be so easy for a human to undo all the hard work he had done with only a phone call to Scott.

Thumbing the inside of his wrist, Isla squeezed her lover's shoulder. "We had a deal."

His scowl softened at the crack in her voice.

"I'd listen to her, Duke." Deaton's stare never wavered. "Keep this up and you'll have no allies at all."

Aching fingers let him go. His gaze fell to the tile floor and he allowed Isla to steer him toward the door. He ignored her apologies and earnest thanks for helping them and grabbed the umbrella from where it had been rested against the counter. He ignored how Deaton closed the mountain ash barrier behind them with a clank. The moment they were out of the building, the Alpha opened the umbrella and tilted it over the young woman's head.

Isla batted it away. "You promised. You promised you wouldn't hurt people."

"I didn't. If I had wanted to hurt him, he'd be dead and not smirking at us from the window." Deucalion nodded to where Deaton was doing just that.

The young woman's expression didn't lighten. She wanted to be mad. Mad that he had broken his promise so quickly and so easily and frightened that his threat had seemed so sincere…but mostly Isla was just tired. No, not tired. She had been tired when she left her mother's house. Isla was exhausted, mentally and emotionally. As far as physically went she was still feeling rather spray, but it was clear Deucalion didn't feel the same.

His shoulders were slumped, his eyes laced with heavy bags and body bent slightly. Not much, but it was a noticeable change to how he usually held himself. The perfect posture was gone, the air around him tinged not with confidence but fatigue.

Isla licked her lips and picked her battle. A faint smile on her lips, she tilted the umbrella toward her with a coy finger. She stepped up to him. Their chests brushed together as she teased, "There. Now you know. You can finally stop looking at me like you're never going to see me again."

The Alpha brushed the backs of his aching fingers along the soft curve of her cheek. Deucalion could almost see the bruise that had lined her cheek the night before, the broken blood vessels in her eye and still smell the hint of blood that had seeped through the bandage. He hated that had been his first impression of her. Pleased by her recovery, by how strong she looked in the dim light, he smirked. Her cobalt blue eyes were as clear as was her pale skin, with the exception of the embarrassed flush on her cheeks.

Isla's rueful smile fell into something a bit more gentle. "Come on, Dee. Let's get you to bed."

He nodded. With an arm wrapped around her shoulders, Deucalion pulled his Beta close to his side. Hip by hip and shielded under the umbrella, the couple made their way back the young woman's apartment. By the time they reached its stoop, it was clear the Alpha didn't share Isla's vigor. His footsteps were steady but slow and the hand on the back of her neck heavy as the uninjured thumb of his right hand rubbed circles into her hairline. Admittedly, it felt rather nice. The simple, affectionate action made it even harder to stay mad at him.

As they reached the entrance of her apartment, Isla fiddled with her keys. Breaking away from him, she spun to plant her back against the door. At his raised brows, Isla bit her bottom lip and ignored when his gaze dropped to her mouth. "Am I really what you wanted? Appearance wise, I mean."

A smile wound over the Alpha's lips. His eyes were tired and fond. "I couldn't have asked for a more beautiful Beta, Isla."

The redhead's cheeks flushed pink. Dropping her chin, she forced back a grin with a swallow. "Well, you didn't exactly _ask…_"

"Isla." Deucalion cupped her cheeks with aching fingers. Her nose wrinkled at the scent of his blood, but he ignored the gesture. "I wouldn't change a thing about how you look." He considered a moment, easing a silky strand of her orange hair through his wounded digits before he added, "Or anything about you at all really."

Isla rolled her eyes. Turning to open the door, she sighed, "Come on, Romeo, it's time for bed."

"Will you be joining me?"

After a moment's consideration, she nodded.

A smirk pulled at Deucalion's mouth.

The apartment was chilly and the air damp. The Alpha let his lover take his jacket and kicked off his shoes before she herded him toward the bedroom. The clutter was still pushed out of the way for the doorway. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched the redhead slip out of her sweater. Left in a pale green undershirt and jeans, she looked over to him.

Deucalion quickly righted his stare to the wall. It was painted a soft color, a shade or two darker than aqua. He quickly undid his pants and pretended not to notice Isla's gaze on his back. Still, he could smell her approval. In only his boxer briefs and bloodstained undershirt, the Alpha turned back the blankets. Expectant, he looked to Isla.

The girl faltered. Her fingers tense on the zipper of her pants, she hesitated before stripping out of them. Ignoring how his gaze swept over the pale expanse of her legs, Isla awkwardly tried to hide her white hipsters from view. They were cheap and cotton and a bit too tight, but given how his pupils dilated and the sudden twinge of sex in his scent, she supposed the Alpha didn't terribly mind. Steeling her resolve, the Beta snapped off her bra and slipped into the bed.

Deucalion peered down at her. Discomfort radiated from the young redhead, but she said nothing. Instead of commenting, the man joined her. The two of them were quiet, simply staring at the ceiling a long while before Isla rolled on to her side.

Her blue eyes searched his face. His features were passive. After a moment's hesitation, the redhead reached out to touch his chest. The Alpha didn't move, just blinked as she moved to settle her cheek against his shoulder. His eyes fluttered closed at the familiar weight, at her soft scent and he turned to press his mouth to her brow before he thought better of it.

"I'm still mad at you," Isla murmured.

"I know."

She sighed and fiddled with the sleeve of his undershirt. "But it's hard to be."

"I know. I'll try..." At her curious glance, Deucalion caressed her cheek with his bandaged index finger. "To treat you as an equal, but it's in my nature to be…"

"An ass?" The girl offered with a small smirk.

He squinted at her. "Domineering."

She shrugged. At her dismissal, the Alpha nuzzled the top of her head. She smelt different; without the bitterness in her scent, he could read her emotions a lot better. Isla was relaxed. Comfortable and a bit aroused, but he wasn't about to push his luck. She would come to him when she was ready and Deucalion could wait. He smirked as his lover, his Beta, curled into his chest.

The two of them drifted off to sleep.

When he woke, it was late afternoon. Not that he would know it, the only light coming from the small lamp beside his lover's bed. It took him a moment to realize he wasn't alone. Fingers were carding through his hair, long legs framing his sides. The familiar softness of Isla's body under him in a new, more tender way. Nestled against her breast like a babe, Deucalion sighed as she thumbed his bicep. His arm.

She tutted quietly at his injured fingers. Her own never paused, stroking the length of his spine at his lumbar region. A moment passed before she caught the change in his breathing. With a smirk, Isla told him, "Still mad at you."

"Given your downright brutal treatment of me, I never would have guessed." He slipped up to bury his face in her neck and realized he was naked. Curious, he hummed as his cock brushed her cheap sheets. "Did you undress me?"

"More or less," Amusement shone in her rich voice. "I told you to do it and you mumbled something about insubordination and how good my sheets smell, so I took it upon myself."

He ran his palm over her thick thigh and let his mouth whisper over his skin. "You didn't have your way with me, did you?"

Isla shuddered. "No, I did not." She offered him a playful shrug to distract from the scratch of his stubble against her collarbone. "Lines of consent and all."

"How noble of you."

Her finger found his cheek and gave it an idle stroke. Deucalion's eyes fluttered closed at the touch. The young woman let herself smile while he couldn't see it. He looked better than he had the night before. The dark circles were gone, his skin a healthier shade and she didn't resist running her fingers through his sandy hair. It was peppered with gray, but that was hardly a turn-off for her. The low groan he gave went straight between her legs. Ignoring it, she licked her lips. "Your hair's grown out."

"Has it?" His hand eased over her thigh to rest atop the crotch of her cotton sleep shorts.

She pushed his hand away, choosing to instead lace their fingers together on her knee. "Mhm."

The man hummed with disappointment. Still, any touch was appreciated and he absently scratched his cheek against the thin strap of her tank top. It was a faded blue and didn't quite cover her stomach. His gaze locked on the exposed skin. He wanted to touch it. To kiss and grope the pale skin until it flushed the same pretty pink that she wore on her cheeks. Instead, he traced her palm with his thumb. "Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

She shrugged and gave his chin a tap. "What you need is a shave."

Deucalion smirked. Sitting up a shade, he peered at her passive features. "Not a fan of beards?"

"Beards are fine…" The young Beta offered him a bright, teasing smile that did little to ease the press of his erection against the mattress. "But why cover up a jaw like that?"

He chuckled and leaned up to kiss her. Isla's cobalt blue eyes watched him carefully, let him brush her mouth with his, but pulled away before he could deepen the touch. Stroking the skin just above the tattoo on his chest, she offered him a mute shake of her head.

The man nodded and moved to settle back down against her chest with a sigh. It wasn't resentful. He watched as her hand returned to his. The slow caress of her fingers drew black lines from it. Deucalion chanced a glance at his lover's face. Isla didn't seem surprised by them. Her features were relaxed, completely calm. Curious, he asked what she thought she was doing.

"Healing you," was her reply. The young woman looked down at him. "Like you did for me in the hospital."

Deucalion squinted at her. "You remember that?"

Isla shrugged and set her cheek against his forehead. "It hurt less when you were around. Was that your way of trying to provoke some kind of Pavlovian response?"

"I don't like seeing you in pain."

"Really? _Seeing _me in pain?"

He bristled and pulled her buxom form closer. "Feeling it then. Smelling it, hearing it. I hated the power you had over me with your human frailties."

"So you took them away from me."

The Alpha's gaze rose to hers. Her features were somber and a bit sad. Eyes and voice sharp, he told her, "It was selfish of me, but I'm not sorry."

Isla almost flinched at his words. The intensity in them felt like a blow. Still, she was taken aback by his eyes; no longer rimmed in red as that had been when he was blind. They reminded her of blue quartz. A steely, deep blue grey. A gasp slipped from her lips as Deucalion blanketed her form. His body heavy and sinfully warm against her and she couldn't help it as her eyes gaze flickered down to his mouth.

"I will never regret biting you, Isla." Deucalion shook his head and pressed his brow against hers. His Beta's eyes widened, but she didn't shy away from him. In fact, her legs had spread surprisingly easy for him, and better yet, stayed splayed as he pushed against her. He could feel the heat of her sex against his abdomen and ground against it, his cock digging into the cleft of her ass. Deucalion watched her lick her lips, watched her swallow and the color rise on her cheeks as he growled, "There's nothing you could do that would make me feel differently."

Then she leaned forward. The action was minimal, so subtle he almost didn't respond to it. Just stared at her mouth a long moment before he decided the risk was worth the reward. Deucalion grabbed her by the front of her shirt and wretched her forward. Their teeth clacked together, but neither of them paid the pain much mind.

Legs gripping him tight, Isla let him grope her. At her jaw and neck and arm, touching her like he thought he never would again. A gasp escaped the young redhead as Deucalion threw her across the bed. Now spread across the mattress horizontally, Isla swallowed as he moved to cover her once more. With only the thin cotton of her nightshorts keeping his cock from being nestled between her slit, the woman began to pant.

Her Alpha grinned and rocked his hips forward. The mew that left her made him shudder. The sound was almost as good as how she felt. His gaze flicked about his lover's form as he began to fuck against her hidden sex. Each steady, purposeful rock earned him another noise and pride welled in him. True, Isla might have been mad at him, but she wasn't pushing him away. She was letting him touch her most intimate places and the man was certain that she wouldn't stop him from stripping her out of the stupid plaid shorts- but he wasn't about to give her the satisfaction of that.

A minute quirk of her hips made the Alpha growl. Her blue eyes peeked out from under her lashes at him.

She looked just like how he imagined; her wild orange hair thrown across her pale green sheets, her cheeks, throat and chest all flushed pink and vulnerable. Her breasts bounced with each push. The golden rim around her irises was no doubt new. Still, Deucalion loved it all the same. More so even, because he had given it to her.

With a bit more force, he fucked her into the mattress. Her shorts were drench with his precum and her arousal. The air in the room so heavy with the humid smell of sex it was almost hard to breath. Neither of them minded.

The Beta arched her back, her hands trailing over the muscular plains of his chest. Cunt rocking against his cock, she smiled and nudged their noses together. She had missed being intimate with him. Missed touching him and teasing him and it felt nice, it felt natural and better yet,_ normal _having him on top of her. Like things might finally be starting to be okay between them. Nails biting into his skin, Isla ducked her head down to kiss and suck at his neck.

Instinct took over before he could stop it. For a moment the world went red and it was his lover's yelp that brought him back to reality. With a blink, Deucalion flinched when he found his hand wrapped around Isla's throat. He jerked away from her, ready to apologize, but the damage had been done. With blank features, he eased off her.

The Beta kicked him away. Quickly scooting away from the man, she tucked her legs up to protect her sex. Her eyes were blue again and rimmed with tears.

"I'm...I'm sorry."

She just shook her head. Tears fell over her lashes and she was quick to cover her eyes with her hand to keep him from seeing.

That hurt. The simple, impulsive action to shut him out of her grief made him feel weak. Helpless. He hated that. "Isla. Isla, look at me."

"You promised." The young woman shrank back from him as he moved to console her. "You said I could trust you."

Deucalion raked his hand over his face. His fingers still ached. "It was an impulse. The only reason another werewolf would touch an Alpha's neck is to deliver the killing blow."

Isla shook her head again. Her orange hair clung to the sweat on her brow. "I don't care."

"I didn't mean to-'

"I don't care," she repeated, voice cracking as she fought back a sob. "You- you can't just- I promised my mom if you even _looked _at me wrong, I would-"

"Look at me now."

The Beta did.

Carefully, he reached for her. Isla shook her head, but didn't fight him when he picked up her hand. He put it at the base of his throat. "I'm sorry." Letting his head fall back, he didn't fight the wince that came as she traced the cords of his neck with clawed fingers. Jaw clenched and eyes red, he fought to stay still as she shifted forward.

Rising up on her knees, she glared at him. "You really think I'd do that to you?"

His jaw clenched and he spoke around gritted teeth, "You'd be surprised what people are capable of."

"I'm not _people_." She tipped his chin down. When his gaze met hers, the young woman was a bit struck by the remorse in his gaze. Still, the disgust read on her face just fine. "You were _disciplining _me."

Deucalion licked his lips and went to touch her face. She flinched away from his hand so he let it drop. "I'm sorry."

The waitress shook her head. "Get out."

"Isla..."

"Get out of my house."

Deucalion nodded as her voice cracked. His freshly washed clothes had been knocked to the floor during their little tryst. Dressing quickly, the Alpha watched her carefully. Isla was quivering, fear and rage in her scent, yes, but most of it was pain. He knew he hadn't hurt her; she didn't have so much as a bruise on her. Where he had grabbed her remained perfect and pale and he felt his stomach knot. Cautiously, he approached her again.

Her blue eyes snapped to his. Dismissing the warning in them, Deucalion leaned down and placed a careful kiss to her temple. He nosed her hair. It was still damp with sweat and smelt faintly of arousal, but just barely. His mouth worked down, over her jaw to her chin. His gaze touched hers, but he didn't dare take her mouth.

Instead, he told her, "If you kill your Alpha, the one who bit you, they say your humanity will return to you."

She blinked up at him with surprise. "What?"

"I understand if that's what you want." Deucalion ground his teeth together a moment before he went on, "I could arrange for another pack to take you. I could get you another Alpha. Someone more...suitable to your needs."

Isla regarded him. His posture was tight and anxious and his words seemed genuine, but she didn't believe them. "You'd never let me."

"If you would feel safer with someone else." He nodded curtly. "Than you should be with someone else."

The woman said nothing as he pressed another kiss to her cheek and walked out the door.

_**Both this and my new DBQ chapter were unbetaed, so my apologies for any mistakes.**_


	7. Warning for rape mention and rant

Due to the amount of flames I've received over the last chapter, I am now considering putting this fic on hiatus.

There will be a poll up on my profile, or you can message me stating whether you think I should keep writing, or stop all together.

But a few things must be addressed. I don't know why people were particularly surprised by how dark this fic can get at times, given how the last series ended. Frankly, I don't know why someone would read a fic based around Deucalion (or Peter Hale) and expect them to immediately conform to social norms. This is a redemption fic, it's supposed to be about growth; for both Deucalion _and_ Isla.

The fact that so many people blame Isla for what Deucalion did turns my stomach. I've gotten quite a bit of flames (I call them flames because they were in no way constructive criticism. At times they were incredibly vulgar, mean spirited and in one case…well, I'll address that down at the bottom) over _her_ actions and _her_ choices, but nothing has been said about Deucalions'. It's classic victim blaming and while it's gross, it's sadly unsurprising, it's not what pushed me over the edge.

No. My limit has been met when several minutes ago, someone compared Isla and Deucalion's relationship to that of Paul Bernardo and Karla Homolka. For those of you who don't know, Bernardo and Homolka were a married couple who notoriously raped and killed at least three women.

As a Canadian woman, and a human being general, I want to address a number of things: first of all, how fucking _dare_ you compare two real life monsters to a fucking werewolf on an mtv show. Second, anyone who thinks Karla Homolka was some innocent wife who _'wanted to change Paul Bernardo through love'_ is a fucking idiot.

Read a goddamn book and think about what you just said in an effort to shame a fanfic writer on the internet.

It is so insulting to victims everywhere that you would call Homolka, who was actively and enthusatically involved in the rape, assault and murder of her own sister, someone who was simply hoping to find the best in a bad man. I'm sickened. Genuinely sicken.

So I didn't want to do this but I'm going to leave the future of this fic up to you. You can write me a message or vote on my page if you want me to keep writing it because at this point I've got so much negative feedback that at the very least I'm going to be turning off anon reviews (all of the flamers were too cowardly to use their username, but that's fairly standard).

Hoping to get some feedback, good or bad (remember, constructive criticism is always good, being an asshole is bad),

-liz


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: I just wanted to thank everyone for the overwhelming support! I will most definitely be finishing this fic now, and I'm sorry I had my doubts; you guys are awesome, and I thank you all so, so much. So, sorry this is unbetaed.**

"Boys," the Alpha greeted, voice surprisingly calm as he walked into the den.

The twins stiffened on the couch. Their eyes widened at the sight of him and jumped to their feet. His eyes were sharp and his vision obviously clear and for a moment, neither knew how to react. Ethan shot Aidan a glance. His arm out to shield his brother, or perhaps hold him back. "We thought you'd be with your new Beta."

"New Beta?" Deucalion repeated, not quite innocently, but not forthcoming, either.

Aidan sneered from behind his twin. "Don't pretend like you don't know who we're talking about."

He offered them a shrug. As he slid his jacket off, he admitted, "I wasn't going to."

Eyes on the Alpha's battered fingers, Ethan barely managed to tear his gaze from them to look Deucalion in the face. "Are you starting a new pack?"

"Not an Alpha pack, no."

"Oh."

"Disappointed?" The man teased with a grin.

"Relieved." Aidan sneered.

"Really?" Deucalion hummed thoughtfully as he moved to enter the den. The boys moved to a more aggressive stance, with bent knees and turned shoulders, so he paused. "You didn't mind so much when you were Omegas."

The twins looked to the floor.

With a slight frown of his own, the Alpha cleared his throat. "If you want to stay, you're welcome to. Whether it's permanently or until you find a place of your own."

"How can we trust you?"

Aidan nodded firmly. "You killed Ennis!"

The Alpha considered a moment before he nodded. They had a point. "I suppose you could say I'm turning over a new leaf. I imagine you're doing the same, if you're seeking out McCall."

The boys blinked and in unison asked, "How did…?"

Deucalion smiled. It was sly and sharp. "You two haven't exactly been subtle yourselves, you know. When it comes to sentimentality."

"We only need a few days."

He waved a hand. "Take what you need."

They watched as their former Alpha went by them without so much as a glance. Curious, and more than a bit suspicious, the twins shared a glance but said nothing.

In the two days of Deucalion's absence, Isla had more or less adjusted to her new...species.

She'd had a few moments of panic with her new strength (ripping off door knobs, breaking glasses and in one awkward case at the diner when she had gotten a bit overzealous opening the dishwasher and tore the door off it) but had otherwise coped quite well, in her opinion. True, there had been a few gratuitous mood swings and the odd gagging fit (thanks to the meth lab downstairs and the cleaners they used to mop down tables at her job) but for a new heart? Isla supposed she could live with just about anything. She hummed and flexed her toes. The purple polished had chipped and worn down to the point where they looked like bruises. She lit a few scented candles waited for the room to smell of cinnamon before she grabbed the nail polish remover.

After cleaning her toes of the remaining color, she grabbed a bottle of baby blue polish from her nightstand. As she shook it, her gaze skirted over to where Deucalion's claws sat. Neat and pretty and bloody at the hilt inside the stone box. His promise was still fresh in her mind, but so was the feeling of his hand on her throat. With a scowl, she turned her attention back to her toes and would have happily continued to ignore her romantic problems had the door not buzzed.

Wary, the redhead checked her bedside clock. It was nearly ten; far too late for visitors. Pulling on a sweatshirt and a pair of pajama pants, she slipped out of bed and to the intercom. Voice cautious, she greeted, "Hello?"

"Izzie? It's me, let me up."

Isla blinked at the familiar voice and quickly did as she was told. Moments later, a young man stood at her door. His usually jovial features were drawn and his shoulders slumped as she opened the door to him. Voice light, the woman teased, "A little late for a house call, isn't it, Scotty?"

"Is it true?" Scott asked, or rather demanded. His hands were balled into fists and shaking just a touch, although they were hidden by the length of his dark sleeves.

Puzzled, she offered him a quirk of a smile. "Is what true?"

"Did he bite you?"

Isla stiffened.

"He did, didn't he?" Scott took her by the shoulders. His brown eyes were serious but not angry, his posture tense but not threatening, he tried to force a smile. "Isla, it's okay, you can tell me. I'm one, too."

"I don't...what? What do you mean you're one too?"

"A werewolf."

Isla squinted at him. "You are?"

He nodded earnestly. He forced his eyes to glow for her, a bright inhuman red that made her want to cry. Scott had always been so sweet. He was too nice and too young for all this werewolf business.

"Oh, Scotty," she sighed. Her arms went around him and she pulled the shorter man in for a hug. "I'm so sorry."

"So he did bite you," Scott repeated. He held her a moment before he set his hands on her shoulders and held her at arm's' length. She looked the same. A bit less pale, but the same dark blue eyes and red hair; not that he had expecting much different. Jaw clenched, he thought of the Demon Wolf and his wicked ways and how he had dragged such a nice girl into his brutality. "Deucalion."

She didn't ask how they knew each other. Just nodded. "About a week ago."

"Are...did you two…" The teenager shook his head, not really wanting to know the details. Instead, he told her, "Whatever he's told you is a lie. You don't have to stay with him if you don't want to."

"He never said I had to stay with him."

"What?"

The redhead shrugged. It was almost a dismissive gesture and completely threw the Alpha off guard. "He said I could find a new pack if I wanted. I just haven't decided yet."

"But Deaton said you know!" Scott shook his head. "You can't _want _to stay with him! He's crazy!"

"Look…" Isla ran her fingers through her hair before she leaned back. Her features were blank and unfamiliar to the boy she had watched grow up. Voice numb, she buried her claws in her palms and ignored both the sting and the flash of rage she felt at his interference. At his _judgement _and sneered, "In the past week I have been held at gunpoint, pistol whipped, found out my boyfriend was a serial killer, been turned into a werewolf against my will and _attacked_," her voice cracked and tears pricked at her eyes. "Don't treat me like I don't know what he is! Like I'm some idiot because I want just a piece of normalcy. Do you have any idea how hard it is when you're so desperate for something normal that you'll take something you know is bad for you because it's familiar?!"

With a sigh, Scott nodded. "Actually, yeah, I do."

She swallowed. Doubtful, she asked, "You do?"

"When I first got turned, I tried to ignore it. I put myself and everyone I cared about in danger because it was easier for me to cope with being _normal _than it was reality." The young man's hands found her shoulders again. With a crooked smile and a reassuring nod, he told her, "It's okay. It takes time to sort this kind of thing out. Let me help you."

Isla closed her eyes and covered them with a hand. Scott recoiled at the sight of her claws, but she didn't notice. After few shaky breaths, the woman steadied herself and raised her head. Tone surprisingly calm despite the hint of redness in her eyes, she told him, "It's not that simple."

"I know what it's like." His brown eyes flickered around her face. She looked tired and lost and he felt a pang of desperation. "That instinct that draws you to the Alpha that bit you. I know how scary and powerful it can be, but you don't have to stay with him."

A bitter laugh left her. "You know when he told me everything he did...I heard him but I don't think I believed him. He had been so sweet to me, you know." Isla thought of how quick her lover had been to pin her down and felt a rush of shame. "I'm such an idiot."

Scott almost flinched at that. At her misty eyes and how she held herself with clawed fingers. "I'm sorry. I know what it's like when someone you love..." He thought of Allison. Of how she hadn't hesitated to shoot arrows at him or stab Isaac and shook his head. "Disappoints you."

She nodded, but didn't speak.

Hesitant, the boy put a careful hand on her elbow. "Did Deucalion do something to you? Did he hurt you?"

"No, but I think he wanted to."

"What happened?"

The redhead swallowed. "He pinned me down."

"And?" Scott asked with a hint of dread. He remembered hearing stories about how Derek had broken Isaac's bones, how he had seduced Erica into the bite and how willing he was to kill Jackson for failing to live up to expectations. If that was what a Hale was capable of, he couldn't imagine what the Demon Wolf could do to an insubordinate Beta and waited for the anvil to drop.

"Well, he bit me, for one. Then he said he wouldn't- that he'd try to be better, but he pinned me again."

"He- did he- I mean, he didn't force you, did he?"

Her brow furrowed. Puzzled by how his voice dropped and his hackles rose, she asked, "Force me to what?"

He closed his eyes. "Did he rape you?"

"Scott!"

"Well, I don't know, you said he pinned you down!" His eyes snapped open as he blushed.

"If he had raped me, he'd be dead," Isla told him firmly. "He just...really scared me. I love him-"

The boy flinched at the omission.

"But I don't trust him," Isla finished. With a swallow, the redhead tried to keep her voice from wavering. She failed. "And I don't know what he'd do if I tried to leave. He knows everyone I love, Scott, and the thought of having to protect them from him breaks my heart."

He frowned as her voice cracked. Pulling her into his arms, the Alpha sighed as she went on.

"I want to believe he can be good, I want it so bad, but he's given me nothing. He just takes and takes and I can't- I can't give anymore because if I do, there won't be anything left of me."

Downstairs, Deucalion had come to make amends. He had spent the few days in his penthouse apartment with the twins. It had been...cathartic, in a way. The time he took to alter some of their perceptions of him; to try his hand as a regular Alpha again. True, they still kept their guard up and regarded him with a bit of hostility, but they hadn't seemed afraid of him. They wanted just as badly as he did to shed their reputations. In fact, it had been at their encouragement that he try to broach the distance between himself and Isla.

Deucalion had given Isla the space she had asked for, but with the full moon three weeks away, she needed to learn control. It was dangerous to have her go around on her own. Without the control she needed she could end up hurting someone and he knew if that happened she would never forgive herself, or him.

When he realized she wasn't alone, he kept his distance, not wanting to infringe on her privacy, but the familiar sound of Scott McCall's voice made him pause.

He listened intently to every word. Took in her heart beat and how her voice wavered as she told the boy what he had done, told him how she felt about her Alpha and felt his heart break what she began to sob. Worse, McCall's quiet reassurances reminded Deucalion how ill equipped he was to handle someone like Isla. Someone soft hearted and fragile.

With a sigh, he closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the brick wall of her building. In truth, he wasn't entirely sure where his lapse in judgement came from. He had always been tepid to Isla touching his neck, but it had never frightened him. Perhaps it had been her new smell; she was an unfamiliar werewolf and he'd had a stressful night. He was probably a bit sleep deprived- no. That was a lie.

True, Isla's scent had changed, but it wasn't unrecognizable and waking up with her had been wonderful. It had simply been an impulse; the first violent impulse he'd ever acted on with her. Deucalion had them before, of course. When the young woman did something unbelievably _stupid _like ignore when her medications didn't work or tried reasoning with a gun. That one still made him angry. It still made him want to shake some sense into her, but she had been frail and human then, and he couldn't. So he hadn't.

But Isla wasn't human anymore. She was strong and fierce and his Beta. It was well within his rights to throw her around as he saw fit...but it didn't feel good. Seeing her cry and curl away from him after such a warm greeting had felt like a blow. There were no excuses for what he had done, and he had no intentions of trying to make any. Least of all to her.

So wrapped up in his thoughts, he almost missed the door opening to his right. Scott McCall stormed out of the building. The boy radiated frustrated and when Deucalion cleared his throat, he rounded on him.

The Demon Wolf blinked as the teen's hands found his collar. After being slammed into the brick with a surprising amount of force, Deucalion found himself being snarled at by fanged teeth and red eyes.

"_You_," Scott growled. "You did this to her."

"I did."

"What kind of monster bites someone without permission?!"

The man found Scott's wrists and wretched them back. The young Alpha stumbled, but his stance stayed tight and ready. Prepared for a fight Scott sneered at him as Deucalion answered, "A desperate one."

He blinked. Eyes going from scarlet to brown, the teenager frowned. "What?"

"She was dying. I couldn't let that happen."

Scott watched him carefully. Deucalion looked...different. More relaxed, a bit less put together. His voice and expression was composed, but his scent wasn't. It was anxious and sad and the young man felt a pang of... not sympathy, but _something _for him. Understanding, maybe. Not quite comfortable with that, Scott asked, "Do- do you love her?"

"Yes." The Demon Wolf's heart beat stumbled. Not because it was a lie, but because was the truth. It was hesitance and shame that made it stutter. It was the sheer hatred he had for being vulnerable, but it was the truth. Admitting how he felt for Isla was like exposing a nerve. A weak spot, a vulnerability…

And Scott knew it. Still, he shook his head with disgust. "She deserves so much better than you."

Deucalion's hands clenched anxiously at his sides. His fingers were still tender, but without his cane, he was still adjusting to not having something to do with his hands. "Now there's something we can agree on."

"You better treat her better because if you don't-"

"I'm trying," the man growled at him. "It's difficult- adjusting to her is more difficult than I anticipated, but I'm trying."

"Try harder," Scott demanded, jabbing a finger in his face. "Or I'll take her from you."

"Perhaps you should."

The boy blinked with a surprised recoil. "What?"

"You and her share…" The Demon Wolf inclined his head. "Considerably more allied ideologies. You have a history…" Deucalion swallowed and dropped his gaze a second. "She feels safe with you. She deserves an Alpha she can respect."

Distrustful of the Demon Wolf's sudden compliance, Scott pursed his lips. Deaton had told him about how Deucalion had lashed out at the mere mention of Isla joining another pack. It seemed too easy, for the man to agree with him. "You bit her, she's your responsibility."

The Alpha of Alpha nodded with a hint of resignation. Not at the sentiment, he agreed with the sentiment to whole heartedly, but at the idea that others might see his Beta as damaged. That other packs would reject Isla for her affiliation with him. With a lick of his teeth, he replied simply, "Of course. But that doesn't mean she deserves to be burdened with the responsibility of my actions. Past or future alike."

"Why, what are you planning?" Scott's dark eyes narrowed on him with suspicion.

"At the moment? I'm trying to relocate my Beta to a more suitable pack."

"Why? Why are you suddenly so eager to pawn her off-"

"I am not _pawning her off_," Deucalion sneered at him. Fangs long and gaze sharp, he spoke around a clenched jaw. "The last thing I want to do is put Isla in the hands of someone incompetent. She needs a leader, someone she can trust and since that person obviously isn't going to be me, I have to make sure she gets what she needs." He swallowed. "Even if what's best for her isn't what's best for me."

"She won't leave."

"She will if I tell her to."

"Shows what you know. Isla's never been very good at following orders." Scott raked his eyes over the man. "She thinks you're going to hurt her family if she goes. Would you?"

"No. Isla's mother and uncle-"

"Godfather," The boy corrected.

A bit annoyed that Scott McCall knew more of his lover than he did, Deucalion grunted. "Well, semantics. They'll be perfectly safe, at least from me."

"And Isla?"

"I never wanted to hurt her."

"But you did. Why should I think you won't again?"

His hands clenched again. Deucalion's claws still hadn't grown back, but the subtle twinge in them was more than enough of a reminder of what he had said when he gave her that silly ornate box. "Because I promised I wouldn't."

Distrustful, Scott regarded him a moment. He eyes his fists and his open features and nodded. Not with approval, but merely acknowledgement. "I'll be keeping my eye on you two."

"I expected nothing else."

With a sneer, Scott turned his back on him and stalked into the night.

Deucalion watched him go until he was out of sight. Stomach in knots, the man sighed and made his way up to his Beta's apartment.


	9. Chapter 9

Isla crossed her arms at the sight of him. Her eyes were still a touch red from crying, but her expression was ice cold. Lips pursed, she raked her gaze up and down her Alpha's form. He had shaved and was dressed in a clean cardigan and a pair of dark jeans and he looked good, if not a little rattled. Unsympathetic, she asked, "What're you doing here?"

Deucalion made no move to enter her apartment. His gaze softened as she held herself a bit tighter. Whether it was due to the draft of the hall or his mere presence, he wasn't sure, but he didn't like it. He also didn't like that she smelt vaguely of McCall, but Deucalion wasn't about to risk touching her. Not when she was so skittish. Instead, he replied simply, "I was just checking in on you."

"I'm fine." She offered him a brisk nod and moved to slam the door in his face.

His hand shot out to stop it from closing. At the spike of fear in her scent, the Alpha eased his grip. "Isla. We need to talk."

"There's nothing to talk about."

"There's plenty to talk about." Deucalion swallowed and clenched his hand. His fingers had mostly healed, but there was still a tingle of tenderness to the action. "I need to know if you've made your decision."

The redhead squinted at him. One of her hands went to the back pocket of her baggy pajama pants. Her posture straightened. "What decision?"

"About whether you'll stay in my pack." When her gaze dropped, he nodded. "I've made arrangements...for you to speak with another Alpha tomorrow. She's older, very experienced. Her pack is well established. I think it could be a good fit for you."

A cold pit formed in Isla's stomach as relief and bitterness welled in her. The idea of him giving her up so easily, like she had been a mistake he couldn't wait to be rid of, stung. She knew it was for the best. That she would get so much more from being mentored by literally _anyone _else, but she wanted Deucalion to succeed. Not just for her but for himself. He had so much good in him. She had seen it. Knowing he was passing her off so he could go back to being an animal made her pity him, but Isla supposed it shouldn't have surprised her. Deucalion couldn't change. He hadn't even tried to. Pretty promises or not, all her Alpha had ever shown her was a beast...but the young woman knew that was a lie.

The man who had blushed his way through their first kiss hadn't been a monster. Who had mapped out her features with shaky fingers in the rain, who had been so gentle with her in the hospital and had looked so sad when they had broken up. Maybe Deucalion wasn't a monster, but he wasn't much of a man, either. At least not the kind Isla wanted him to be.

She flinched as he cupped her cheek.

A strong thumb eased over her sensitive skin, mapping out her sharp features as he frowned. "This isn't something I'm doing lightly, Isla." He brushed over her temple. "I want you to have the best possible chance, even if it's not by my side."

"Yeah, well, you had your chance." Isla pulled her cheek from his touch and ignored the disappointment in his face as she shifted away from him. "So save it. I'll see you tomorrow, Duke."

"I'll pick you up at ten."

Instead of replying, Isla simply shut the door in his face. The Alpha felt rage flare in him at the disrespect, but he forced it down as a low growl rose in his throat. Claws digging into his palm, he reminded himself that this was exactly why he was letting her go. He couldn't control his instincts, and right now, his instincts were telling him Isla was a Beta to be disciplined. Nothing more than a possession. Worse, the feeling was tinged with lust and that was a dangerous combination. Which was exactly why she had to go.

The next morning, Isla was standing outside her building. She was rather formally dressed, in a teal cowl neck sweater and a pair of black trousers. Deucalion watched her a moment. He hadn't seen her in sunlight before. It made her orange hair all the more striking; flaming and bright, pulled back in a sleek ponytail. Typing a quick text out to her mom to let her know what was happening, she caught a familiar scent in the wind and started as a smooth voice came from behind.

"I didn't know they still made flip phones."

Isla shot her Alpha a glare and hit _send_. "It works fine."

Deucalion arched an amused brow, but didn't comment further. Instead, he nodded. "Shall we?"

The two fell in step. Out of the corner of his eye, the man regarded his Beta. She seemed very composed, her posture tight and confident and he felt a swell of pride at the prospect of presenting her to another pack. Then he caught sight of her shoes; a pair of old sneakers being held together with duct tape and quite possibly sheer willpower. Licking his teeth and forcing back a grin, he asked if she had any questions.

Isla slipped a strand of long orange hair behind her ear. "You said it was a woman? What's her name?"

"Sitomi." Deucalion's strides were long and unforgiving, something the young woman appreciated. It was nice being able to keep up with him and stretch her legs without worrying about her heart collapsing. "She's very well-established. Her pack's been in California since the '40s, I believe. Charming woman."

"Hm." Isla lifted a brow. "And she's open to taking me in?"

"She seemed very interested in meeting you- ah, here we are."

The redhead blinked at the sight of the local recreation center across the street. It was a well-maintained building, but not at all what she was expecting. "What-?"

"We decided it would be best to meet on neutral ground, with her pack in attendance of course, given my history."

"Of mass murder?"

Deucalion paused for a beat. "Yes."

As his hand skimmed her lower back, Isla stepped out from under him. His smirk waned at that, but he followed her over to the building. Not bothering to knock, he held the door open for her and ignored her thanks. They were greeted by a young man behind a desk, who upon seeing them, merely lifted a brow and told them rather bluntly, "Meeting room six," as he pointed with him pen.

"Thanks," Isla offered him an awkward wave before slipping down the hall.

Deucalion followed, not appreciating the way the younger man's eyes flickered over his Beta's form. Repressing a growl, he let his eyes flash at him.

"Dee," Isla warned from the end of the hall. A hint of mirth in her voice, she ordered, "Put your dick away."

The Alpha shot a glare in her direction but his scowl lifted at her smile. When he approached her, he slipped a hand over her waist. She didn't push him away, but her blue eyes narrowed slightly. With a roll of her eyes, she nodded over to a door clearly marked _six _and Deucalion led her toward it.

He knocked briskly before opening the door. Several eyes turned to face them. There were ten people crammed in the small meeting room. Two women and eight men, all under forty and blank faced.

The lone seated woman seemed considerably more at ease than her Betas. She was a regal woman of perhaps sixty, with a stern mouth but warm eyes. Dressed in a black jacket and a cream blouse, she made no move to stand as Deucalion greeted her.

"Sitomi. You're looking well."

"Thank you." The woman's eyes flickered down to where the Demon Wolf was so delicately touching the young redhead's back. "I see you've been busy."

The corner of Deucalion's mouth twitched. "You could say that. Thank you for seeing us on such short notice."

"I have to admit, I was rather surprised when you called...but I can see why you were so concerned." Sitomi offered the redhead a soft smile. Isla returned it, but it fell when the woman finished with a shake of her head, "But I don't think I can help."

"How did I fail the interview before I even opened my mouth?" Isla asked with a bemused smirk. Still a touch of fear lingered in her eyes.

Sitomi picked up on it right away. The woman glanced behind her. "Leave us."

One of her men protested, "But-"

"Now, please." Her Betas hesitated, but left, leaving the three of them alone. Sitomi would have none of it. A hint of amusement shone in her voice, but her gaze was stern, "You, too, Duke. I'd like to speak with the young lady in private."

Deucalion frowned, but at the reassuring nod from Isla and a subtle squeeze of his hip, he left.

The women waited until he shut the door before looking at one another again. Sitomi extended a hand toward the chair across from her desk. "Please. Take a seat, Miss Crane." 

Curious, Isla obeyed. "You know my last name?"

"I know many things about you." Her fingertips came together to rest on the tabletop. Dark eyes flickering over the girl's features, she kept her tone even and a bit brisk as she explained, "Deucalion was very thorough in his description of you, but he failed to mention how deep your bond is. I suspected it, but I was unaware that the two of you were so... entangled. Emotionally. The bond between Alpha and Beta is already substantial, but this is something else entirely and I'm afraid a bond like that is not easily broken."

Isla leaned forward. A bit of eagerness, or perhaps desperation, played on her youthful features. "But there _is _a way to break it? Permanently."

Sitomi lifted a casual shoulder. "You could kill him."

The redhead recoiled. Stomach tight and blood cold, she swallowed. "Besides that."

"He could kill you." Sitomi frowned as distress rolled from the girl in thick waves. Empathetic, she sighed. "You could try a trial separation, but that rarely works out well. It usually just makes an Omega, and since you're female, that could be exceedingly dangerous. Not just for you, but for the entire town."

"So there's really nothing you can do?"

"Not without risking the safety of my pack."

After a moment, Isla nodded. She couldn't fault the woman for wanting to keep her family safe and moved to stand. "Thank you for your time."

An inquisitive lilt broke through the woman's cool voice, "If you've already bonded with him, why are you so eager to break it?"

The waitress licked her lips and offered her a weak smirk. "I thought he could change, but he hasn't."

"How long has it been?"

"A week," Isla clenched her jaw. "But it's been a few days since I've seen him."

The elderly woman chuckled. The optimism, or perhaps arrogance, of youth was staggering sometimes. "And you thought your love would simply erase his flaws?"

"Well, considering his flaws are _killing _people, I thought he'd at least work on them," Isla replied stiffly, her pale cheeks pink with embarrassment.

"And has he?"

"He hasn't shown me anything." Isla crossed her arms and dropped her chin. "He treats me like I'm some puppy that's going to bite."

"You are."

Isla's expression puckered at the slight.

Sitomi offered her another, more patient smile. "An untrained Beta is a dangerous thing." Her dark eyes softened. "I won't pretend to know what happened between you, but I knew Duke. Before he lost his way. The man who presented you with such pride is the closest I've seen Deucalion act like himself in years."

Still holding herself, Isla fiddled with her sweater a moment before chancing a curious glance at the woman. She hoped she came off as nonchalant, but the redhead knew she didn't as she repeated, "You knew him?"

"Not well. Not like Talia Hale did, but well enough to know if he was going to change, he would need an anchor." Sitomi smirked. "And that anchor may very well be you."

The young woman shook head her. Her hands fell to her sides, one of them coming back to slip into her pocket. Bold, she raised her chin. "I shouldn't have to be that for him."

Sitomi arched a brow. It wasn't like Betas to be so straightforward with an Alpha- much less a stranger. Torn between respect and annoyance, the woman raised her own in reply. "I'm not telling you to be subservient. No one is forcing you to stay and no one is forcing you to be in a relationship with him. You're an adult. Make your own decisions. Just don't expect change to happen overnight."

"Thank you for your time." With a curt nod and a frown, Isla left before the woman could get another word in.

Deucalion arched a brow as his Beta slipped out of the room. Isla merely spared him a glance and jerked her head and he fell in line- much to the surprise of Sitomi's pack, who had been watching him diligently for the past five minutes. Falling in step with her, the Alpha couldn't resist.

"So I take it that went well?"

Isla shot him a dark look but merely kept walking.

Deucalion chuckled, his hand finding her waist as they moved past the front desk and out into the warm sunlight. Offering her arm a rub, he almost buried in face her hair, but thought better of it. Still, his condolences came, "I'm sorry she rejected you."

The redhead scowled but didn't reply.

"She doesn't understand the...delicate circumstances-"

"She seemed to understand just fine." Isla rounded on him. Her hair was bright and her skin almost blinding, like ivory in the sun, and he couldn't stop himself from drinking her in. With her fierce gaze and sharp cheekbones and the sheer rage that radiated from her core. So much more tantalizing than the bitter scent of her illness. It was striking, as were her bright yellow eyes, as she sneered, "She says I'm stuck with you! That you need some kind of anchor and that I'm gonna end up an Omega if I leave you! And what the hell is an Omega anyway?!"

"Isla." Deucalion slid his hands up her arms and cupped her shoulders. When she tried to jerk away from him, the man held tight, just barely burying his sensitive fingertips into her delicate skin under her light sweater. "Calm yourself."

The young woman tried to rip away from him, but he held tight. Snarling, she spat at him, "Fuck you."

"Isla," He growled, flashing his own startlingly red eyes at her.

The redhead flinched. With a blink, her gaze returned to its human state and Deucalion slipped his hands up to her collarbones. They were thin and delicate and he could snap them like twigs, but instead he offered them a careful rub with his thumbs as he spoke, "I'm not going to let that happen to you."

"What is it?" Isla tilted her head. Taking in his serious disposition, she clarified, "An Omega?"

"It's a wolf without a pack."

Not understanding the severity of her words, Isla shook her head. "That doesn't sound so bad."

The man frowned. "It's incredibly dangerous. Wolves aren't meant to run alone, Isla. Solitude...changes us. Makes us unpredictable, sometimes volatile; a prime target for hunters."

"Like Gerard Argent?" She watched him carefully. It was unsettling, how he faltered before her, but his simple response reeked of genuine unease and Isla appreciated that.

His chin dipped a moment before he met her gaze with a swallow. "Yes."

Her fingers found his cheek and the young woman remembered how they had looked in Deaton's pictures; all soot covered and burned. Her Alpha leaned into her touch, catching the heel of her hand with a gentle kiss before she pulled away. More sad than angry, Isla shook her head at him. "I'd rather be alone than under your thumb." 

Deucalion cringed at that. There had been no inflection in her scent, her words completely honest and he felt like he had been dealt a blow to the stomach. "Please don't say that."

The redhead pursed her lips at the quiet desperation in his words. His hands slipped into hers and she went to pull away, but he held tight.

Thumbing the back of her knuckles, he stared at her fingers. The long, slender digits which had so calmly touched him just moments before. Untarnished by blood or death or malice and he couldn't tear his gaze from them as he ordered, "I want you to call Scott."

Isla blinked. "But-"

"No," He shook his head and met her wide eyed stare with a wan smile. "No arguments. He's the Alpha you need. The one you deserve."

"He's just a kid." The redhead shook her head and once again he was struck by how utterly coruscating her hair was. "He doesn't deserve-"

"He might not deserve your baggage, but you deserve someone like him. A True Alpha." Deucalion let his gaze caress her face, taking in her sharp features and the odd freckle and the crease between her brow as she frowned at him.

"But he's just a kid-"

"A kid with exponential potential." His smile bloomed, genuine and warm. "Just like you. You deserve the best, Isla, and since I can't give it to you, you should be with him." Her Alpha's hand moved behind her and he eased her phone from her back pocket. Pressing it into her palm, he ignored how her scent twisted with fear and rage and _hurt _and told her, "Call him. He wants to take you in. Let him." His fingers caressed the back of her hand, over her knuckles and wrist, as if taking in the smoothness of her skin for the last time. "This isn't something I'm doing easily, Isla. It's not a punishment; it's the only gift I can give you."

"If I call him…" Isla licked her lips and met his gaze. Worry shone in her blue eyes, worry and a hint of dread as she asked, "Are you going to stop?"

His brow creased. "Stop?"

"Trying to be a good person." Her chin fell as her cheeks flushed. "I know I wasn't enough-"

"I am trying. It just takes time to get back to such a mindset." Gentle hands grasped her by the shoulders. "It's more difficult than I thought it would be, but I'm going to keep trying to be the Alpha you deserve." Her shoulders fell in his hold, her entire body sagging with relief as he kept on, "Whether you're by my side or not."

"Good." With a swallow and a nod, Isla met his stare. It was intense, but it eased into relieved as she told him, "I hope you do, because I think you could be a really great one if you tried."

A faint blush crossed his cheeks. Pleased, and a bit intimidated by her faith in him, Deucalion ran his hands down her arms to cradle her hands once more. "Perhaps one day I'll be able to live up to your expectations, but for now, for your peace of mind, I want you to call Scott."

Still not totally convinced, the young woman sighed. Quick fingers typed out a brief text (_I changed my mind. I'll be at the diner._) to the teenager before she tucked her phone back in her pocket. It chimed, but she ignored it in favor of looking up at her Alpha.

Deucalion offered her a terse nod. "You made the right decision. Scott is a fine young man."

"I know."

They quiet, the redhead fiddling with her fingertips as the man before her clenched his jaw. After a moment's hesitation, he took her hand. "I hope when you look back on our time together, it will be with fondness and not regret, Isla."

"I wish I had been enough for you to try," The young woman winced as her voice cracked. Bottom lip quivering, she kept her head down as he sighed.

"My failure doesn't fall on you." Deucalion's fingers smoothed back her long bangs. They were soft and cool to the touch. "Perhaps one day when I've learned to control myself, we could try again. If only as friends." He offered her a wry smile as she met his gaze. "I don't have many you know."

Despite her misty eyes, Isla returned the warm expression as his hand came up to thumb her flushed cheek. With a cheeky smirk, she told him, "You'd have more if you stopped killing them."

He chuckled and Isla could have wept at the sound. She knew she was making the right decision, that Deucalion wasn't ready for a pack or to treat her like she was anything but a liability to him...but that didn't make it any easier. She had walked away from him before and she could remember the grief it had caused her. She had hoped, after all he put her through, the idea of a fresh start might be cathartic.

And in a way it was a relief not to know she wouldn't be burdened with the responsibility of his morality, but he had been her first love. Isla had never felt quite so much like herself than when she was with him and worried she wouldn't again.

So when he asked if he could still visit her, if he could stop by the diner some nights, she nodded. With a watery smile, she told him, "I'd like that."

The Alpha smiled and pressed a tender kiss to her temple. Deucalion inhaled her sweet scent and nuzzled against the softness of her skin a moment before he pulled back. Her eyes were still misty, but her expression firm as he told her, "I wish you all the luck in the world, Isla."

"You too, Dee."

And with a brief kiss, he left her to her own devices.


	10. Chapter 10

All of Scott's pack seemed like good kids. They were (understandably) a bit hesitant about Isla's sudden joining, but seemed to warm to her easily enough.

Lydia was cool, composed and practical (and for some reason incredibly invested in the woman's apparent lack of fashion sense; something Isla was both amused and a bit insulted by).

Allison was polite and curious, if not rather democratic about the whole thing; she seemed to be under the impression that Isla needed their 'help' which, while not completely untrue, was still a slight blow to the ego for the (twenty something) redhead.

The lone exception being Isaac, who was incredibly awkward.

The fact that they all knew her business was fucking _infuriating _and Isla had spent most of the meeting smiling around clenched fangs as they discussed the problem.

The problem being her ex-boyfriend. For the most part they at least _tried _to be respectful of her feeling. except Stiles, who upon learning of her sordid romantic past, decided Deucalion needed to die. Most of his comments went ignored, but once the three other teenagers left (apparently the girls had a planned trip to the mall and Isaac was taking Mrs. McCall dinner at the hospital), Stiles went right back into ripping into Deucalion.

"I mean, we should've killed him off a long time ago-" Stiles didn't look up from where he was pacing, his left hand moving frantically around in front of him as right clenched a water bottle in a tight fist. The loud crinkle of the plastic was grating to both werewolves as he moved back and forth through Scott's kitchen. "But now he _really _needs to die!"

Isla rolled her eyes at the boy's dramatics, but said nothing. It wasn't her home, and it wasn't her place to shut him up, although she was incredibly tempted to trip him. Digging the toes of her time battered sneakers into the tiled floor to prevent that from happening, she rolled her eyes over to Scott beseechingly.

Her Alpha ignored her from where he was leaning against the counter. He just kept his arms crossed and his expression tight.

"Like, we can get some of Allison's dad's poison dart things and Isla can be the bait and we can lure him into the woods with the promise of a hot redhead and-"

"We're not killing him, Stiles." Scott rolled his eyes and stuck his head in the fridge. He hummed, routed through it a moment, and offered said hot redhead a bottle of water before hip checking it closed. "Not until he gives us a reason to."

Isla frowned as she took the bottle. A bit hurt, and frankly a bit annoyed that the boy she had known so long didn't trust her judgment, she bristled slightly. "Do you have to say it like it's inevitable? He could still turn it around."

The boys shared a doubtful look, but didn't say anything. Instead, they asked if she had heard from him.

"In the two days since I left his pack?" The woman arched a fine red brow. "No, I haven't."

"Do you miss him?" The question came Scott.

She looked away from them, focusing on a suddenly intriguing magnet on the fridge. "I don't know."

Stiles scowled at her casual omission. "The answer we're looking for here is _no_, Isla."

She shrugged.

"What the hell could you two even have in common?!" The skinny teen snapped, his fingers frantically tapping and twisting the cap of his water bottle. "He's so old! And insane! And _literally _a monster!"

A coy smirk crossed the redhead's lips. "Well-"

"Do not say _sex_, Izzie! I will lose my freaking _mind _if you say sex."

Isla's eyes narrowed on his frustrated expression. "Why do you keep asking questioning you don't want the answers to?"

"Scott. Deal with her."

The woman glared after him as he waved in her general direction and stormed out of the room. Her blue eyes flashed a bright shade of yellow, her lips twisting into a sneer as she huffed. The back door slammed. They listened to him mutter to himself before he got in the Jeep.

Swallowing, she looked to Scott. "I wish you wouldn't do that."

"What?"

"Tell people about me and Deucalion."

"I have to, Iz. Keeping secrets is dangerous."

"Yeah, I know, but…" she shook her head. "He's not gonna try anything. He said I could go."

"He told my mom the same thing and it turned out he was using her as bait! What if he has something planned? Something serious?"

"Than we should deal with that, but you shouldn't have told everyone my personal business just in case something happens."

Scott's brow furrowed at her casual, almost sad expression. He knew Isla was a bit too optimistic, and that she wasn't exactly wrong, but he could shake the feeling of dread in his stomach at her disappointment. "I didn't mean to hurt your feelings, I was only trying to help."

The woman sighed and stood. "I know, but it's not exactly the first impression I wanted to make. I mean, Stiles I get, but Lydia and Allison? And that Isaac kid? Couldn't you have at least let me meet them before you go introducing me as _the Demon Wolf's ex-girlfriend_?"

Scott frowned, a bit unsettled by her yellow eyes. "Has he contacted you yet?"

"I told you no." She grabbed her battered denim coat from the back of the chair. As she slung it over her shoulders, Isla clenched her jaw as he pressed on.

"You'll tell me when he does?"

"Of course."

Scott knew it was a lie before the words even left her mouth. When she couldn't hold his gaze, he shook his head. "I'm just trying to help you. It's not safe- and not just for you. I have a pack to look out for, and, well, he's obviously not good for you."

"I know."

"Do you?"

The glance she sent his way was more curious than annoyed.

"Your eyes," The teenager explained with a frown. "They go yellow whenever I mention him." 

Her shoulders rolled with agitation. "Than maybe you should stop mentioning him."

"You have to start controlling it, Isla, it's dangerous to-"

Brushing past him, Isla shook her head. "This is bull shit. Everyone wants to tell me what I should be doing without telling me how." As she rubbed her forehead, a long sigh slipped from her throat. "I gotta go to work."

The Alpha nodded. Offering her a weak smirk, he asked, "Want me to give you a ride?"

"Nah, I can handle it."

"You sure?"

"I said I can handle it, Scott. Besides, I kind of like the exercise." She pulled a ponytail out of her jacket pocket and tied her long hair back in a loose bun. "Maybe we can meet up after? Privately, I mean? I know I need to work on myself, but it's hard with strangers."

Scott bit his lip at her drawn, helpless face. He didn't like having someone he had idolized through his childhood look to him for advice. "I have practice, maybe after that?"

"Sure, kid. Sounds good."

He offered her a limp smile before she left the house. Back against the fridge, Scott winced as the door closed. Able to feel the cold metal through his sweatshirt, the young man tried to focus on that and not the twinge of regret he felt. When he had took Isla on, it had been simply to get her away from Deucalion. Now that he had her, he had absolutely no idea what to do with her. She wasn't like Isaac, she didn't know how to control herself, she didn't know how to adjust to being a member of a pack. Isla was still pushing for solidarity, and it was alienating her. More so than her advanced age already did. Jaw clenched, he pulled his cellphone out of his back pocket and shot a quick text out to Derek.

There would be no response.

Across town, Mrs. Daye arched a brow. Making a show of looking behind the redhead, she asked, "No boyfriend today?"

Isla didn't look at her. Annoyance made her jaw tick, but she knew better than to ignore the force of nature she had for a boss. "Me and Duke broke up again."

"Really?" The old woman's gaze was sympathetic, but certainly not displeased. A small, barely traceable smirk pulled at the corner of her lips. "That's too bad."

Able to feel her eyes flare up, she quickly dropped her gaze to her zipper as she shrugged off her jacket. Hanging it on the coat rack beside the door, Isla took a deep breathe. It wasn't totally steady, but it kept her from having to answer.

"Did something happen between you two?" Mrs. Daye asked. Her concern, while genuine, was unappreciated.

"Nope." Isla smiled stiffly as she moved around the counter. "We just wanted different things."

From where she was refilling someone's soda, Sarah smirked. "He wanted to stick it in your butt, didn't he?"

"No!"

The teenager scoffed at her obvious disgust. "Don't be such a prude, Izzie."

"Go prep some silverware!" Her manager shrieked.

Sarah gaped in horror at the blushing redhead. "But that's a Marnie job!"

"Do it!"

Grumbling, the teen slammed the plastic cup down and stormed, admittedly rather anti-climatically, ten feet over to where the silverware and napkins were kept. The women shared an eye roll before Isla continued behind the counter. Sliding an apron on over her orange work dress, she kept her head down before she plastered a smile on her mouth and approached the nearest table.

For the most part, the night was uneventful. A few of the more familiar customers asked her how she was doing, how she was feeling, and for the most part, it was actually kind of nice. Isla had always enjoyed the small talk and the social side of her job. What she did not like, however, were unwanted advances.

Fake grin still in place, she approached a lone man seated by himself near a window. Isla supposed him to be about her age; cute, with boyish features and a smile that seemed stuck to his lips, even when his eyes didn't reflect any mirth at all. He had been friendly, if not a little too forward for the young woman's liking, but nothing she hadn't dealt with before.

"Was everything alright with your meal, sir?"

"I told you," He offered her a roguish grin. "Call me Charlie. Come on, beautiful, let's hear you say it."

Despite the flash of rage that past through her, she corrected herself with a sarcastic, "Was everything alright with your meal, _Charlie?"_

"It was great, thanks."

Her smile turned a bit more sincere. "I'm glad to hear it. Would you like any desert or-"

"You know what I'd love?"

_My phone number_, Isla thought with a hint of dread.

"Your phone number."

_Fucking called it_, a small smirk crossed her mouth. Clearing her throat delicately, she offered him a sympathetic shake of her head. "I'm really flattered but I just got out of pretty messed up relationship-"

"Aw, that's too bad. He hurt you, baby?" His hand wound around hers and offered it a consoling squeeze. "I'm sure I can help you get over him."

"No, no, I don't think you can." Prying her hands from his, Isla quickly tucked her fingers into her palm to hide her claws. She had felt them break through the skin. "I'm really not looking to date."

Charlie's eyes darkened. His smile stayed on, no longer warm, but icy. "Well, you know what they say don't you? The best way to get over someone-" His hand smacked her on the ass with enough force to make her entire body jerk. As his fingers dug into the meat of her backside, he purred, "Is to get under someone el-"

Before he could finish, Isla's claws found his hair. Twisting the strands around her shaking fingers, a growl echoed from her throat as she slammed him face into the linoleum tabletop with all the force she could muster. Blood splattered across her dress as his nose hit it with an audible, sickening _crunch_. Fangs bared, Isla held his scalp tighter and bent down to growl in his ear, "Listen here, you limp dick piece of dog shit, if you ever grab me, or anyone else, like than again, I'm gonna rip you open and play with your fucking insides, you hear me?!"

"Yes, yes, I hear you!" Charlie squawked, choking as his nose continued to gush. It stained his teeth and chin, down the front of his grey bomber jacket.

With a sneer, she told him, "Good." A jerk of her wrist sent the man clattering to the floor. Standing over his cowering form, Isla was disgusted by the rush of satisfaction she got as he scampered away from her like a kicked puppy. As her rage fell into something a bit more neutral, she took a deep breath. The air smelt like fear and blood and embarrassment.

The diner was silent, the few patrons looking on in horror.

Swallowing, the redhead squared her shoulders. At the terrified expressions, she clenched her fists- and realized she was holding something. She looked down at her hand. A chunk of Charlie's scalp clung to her fingers. Her stomach retched at the sight of the skin and dark hair. Without a word, she ran to the bathroom.

Locking the door behind her, Isla frantically paced around the tiny space. Her beat up sneakers squeaked with every step. This couldn't be happening. It wasn't real. She'd wake up and it'd all be some terrible dream.

But the blood wasn't to be ignored. Her heart pounded in her ears, but she could still hear the sound his nose had made when it broke. The harsh metallic scent was all encompassing and her breathing became short and quick as she fell against the sink.

Streaking the white porcelain a harsh red, Isla began to sob as yellow eyes met her gaze in the mirror. She squeezed them closed. "It's not real," She whispered. "It's not real, it's not real, it's not-"

"Isla!"

The young woman growled at the sound of her boss' voice.

"Isla, sweetie, open the door!" Mrs. Daye demanded.

Teeth sharp and eyes glowing, Isla tried and failed to calm herself. As the knocking grew more and more impatient, the redhead managed a fierce snarl, "I'm fine!"

There was a brief pause.

Isla pressed her forehead against the mirror. The glass was cool against her flushed skin. When she peeked her eyes open, they were still yellow. Whining low in the back of her throat, she looked down at her hands and flinched. Shaky, sticky red fingers turned the faucet on.

Another voice took Mrs. Daye's place.

"Izzie?" Her god father offered.

"I'm fine, Jim."

Jimmy ignored her, or possibly didn't hear her. "Izzie, baby, open the door."

"Don't call me _baby!_" She screamed, riled and agitated. "I'm nobody's _baby_, just leave me alone!"

"Is there someone you want me to call? Your mom or Deucalion-"

The sound of her Alpha's name felt like a blow to the stomach. Her knees gave out, she felt her heart kick into her throat. "No! I'm fine! I just- I just need a fucking minute, okay?!"

At the break in her voice, her godfather relented. "Okay, Iz. You take all the time you need, honey."

Breath coming out harsh around fanged teeth, her back hit the wall. As she slid down it, the redhead shook her head. Wet hands raked over her face. Gagging at the smell of blood, Isla buried her fingers in her hair and began to sob.

She had never hurt anyone like that before. Never even been in a fist fight. She'd had men hit on her, get physical with her before, but she had never dreamed of actually _doing _what she had always imagined. Her arms wrapped around her knees.

Worse, she had liked it. Liked seeing him bleeding, and bumbling, and scared. It had given her a rush of power like she had never felt before and it was...enticing, and disgusting all at once.

The white noise of the faucet made her head swim. She wanted Deucalion, but quickly pushed that thought aside. _Want_ and _need_ were two very different things; what she needed was to get a grip, but unfortunately for Isla, that was considerably more difficult.

She was still in the bathroom when Scott came looking for her. At first his voice surprised her, then it annoyed her as she realized he we must have come looking for her when she wasn't at home. Checking in on her like she was a child. "Isla? Isla open the door."

"Go away." The reply was weak.

"Isla, it's me." His knock became more insistent.

The young woman didn't move. Just kept her hands on her shins and kept her eyes closed. "I know who it is, and I don't care. Just leave me alone."

"I kind of can't. Mrs. Daye wants to close up."

"So lock up."

"Izzie. Come on. Let me in."

Sighing through her nose, the woman forced herself to obey. Her hand still felt bloodstained and unsteady as she opened the door.

Scott balked at the sight of her.

At the sight of his former babysitter, the woman he had played hide and seek with, who had tucked him into bed at night and checked his closet for monsters, standing before him covered in blood. Worse was her expression; the usual light in her eyes dim and her mouth firm. Ignoring his shock, Isla moved to turn off the sink.

Scott stepped into the bathroom. Gently closing the door behind him, he asked, "Was it bad?"

"I bashed a pervert's head in," Isla replied stiffly. She stuck her hands under the faucet and washed them for the umpteenth time. The skin felt over sensitive and raw despite looking pristine.

"Is-" The teenager set a careful, caring hand on her shoulder. "Are you alright?"

"I don't know," her voice cracked. Swallowing, she shook her head. It didn't feel right crying in front of Scott. It was embarrassing. She could remember kissing his boo-boos and walking him home from school. It wasn't the natural order of things. _She _was supposed to take care of _him_, not the other way around. Quick wet fingers brushed across her cheeks. "I just...I just…"

"I know. It's okay." Scott offered her shoulder a squeeze before taking her hand. "Come on, let's get you home."

Isla let him lead her out of the bathroom and out of the restaurant. She vaguely noticed that Mrs. Daye kept away. That Jimmy merely watched her go with pensive features, but not a word. That wasn't like them. Still, she appreciated the distance.

When they stepped out into the empty street, she let go of his hand. Voice soft, Isla confessed, "I liked it. I hurt someone and I _liked _it. He just made me so mad and it felt so good getting back at him."

"I know."

Eyes wild and aimed at the cement, she shook her head. "I didn't even think about it. I just did it and then he was bleeding and it made me... I wanted there to be more of it. I wanted him to bleed more. I wanted to rip him apart."

The last words were a whisper, but Scott heard her just fine. "I know." At her glare, he shook his head. "I'm not making fun of you."

Her features stayed guarded. "It sounds like you are."

"I'm not. I swear. I just...don't know how to help." He had never dealt with an untrained Beta before. Hell, he'd only had one actual werewolf in his pack, and Isaac had already mastered self-control long before he joined. Scott shrugged a bit awkwardly. "It's- I remember what it's like, when you can't control yourself. How scary it can be, how easy it can be to just-" he shook his head. "You need an anchor, and you need one now. I want you to work on that, okay? Something you can focus on to keep calm."

"An anchor," Isla repeated to herself. Worry and dread pulled at her throat. "What if whatever I pick doesn't work?"

"Than you'll pick another one, until you find one that works." Scott frowned as her gaze lifted to his. He didn't like seeing someone who had such a big impact on his life so upset. "I can't tell you what your anchor should be, Izzie. You have to chose it for yourself."

The redhead held herself tighter. "I hate this."

"I know it's hard. It'll get easier. It just takes time."

"I don't want it to get _easier_, I want it to _stop_. I should've- I'd rather be in the fucking hospital with a shit heart than be some wild animal."

The boy sighed. "I know."

Lip curling back in disgust, Isla sneered, "He should've let me-"

"Don't." Scott hand caught her arm and squeezed. "Don't say it."

"But what if I can go off on people I care about? What if me and my mom have a fight?! Or me and Jimmy?! Or Stiles?!" Panic made her blue eyes yellow as she shook her head. "He pisses me off all the time!"

"That's why you need an anchor!"

"Don't tell me what I need!" Isla snared. "Tell me how to fix it!"

"You can't, okay?! There's nothing you can do! This is your life now, Isla! You have to find an anchor and move on!" At her flinch, at the tears welling her eyes, Scott relented, but only slightly. "I know you're scared. I know what it's like to want to be normal, but we're not normal. We're _werewolves_. That's about as weird as it gets and we can embrace it and try to be good people, or we can let ourselves become the monsters they want us to be."

"They?" She repeated dubiously.

"The hunters, the men who turned us."

Isla was quiet a long moment. She thought of everything that had happened, thought of the intent behind her current strife. As she did, her anger ebbed away into annoyance, then into grief, as she told him, "Deucalion never wanted me to be a monster. He wanted me to be healthy."

Scott huffed at the sound of her Alpha's name. "I want you to get some sleep. I'll come by after school tomorrow and we can talk about your anchor, okay? Just try to think of something, anything, that will keep you grounded."

The woman looked up from the street. Curious, she tilted her head. "What was it for you?"

"I thought of Allison."

"Sappy," She teased, but her gaze was warm.

He chuckled. "Yeah, but it worked. Her heartbeat lowered mine. She makes me feel...calm. Even if we aren't together anymore, she's still what I need to keep control."

"Does it have to be a person?"

"No. I don't think so." His mind drifted back to Isaac, who thought of his dad. "Maybe. I'm not sure. I think it just had to be something with a strong emotional connection."

Swallowing, Isla looked down at her hands. She remembered how her claws had sliced through her cuticles, remembered the ones sitting in a box under her bed. "What if you don't like the person you have the connection with?"

Scott's frown deepened. "Then find someone new."

She thought of Charlie's words; about getting under someone else and felt her lips curl with disgust. Crossing her arms over her stomach, she didn't say anything. Just walked away from him, back into her apartment, and went to bed. 


End file.
